Playwitch's Top 10 Sexiest Wizards
by The Golden Duo 22
Summary: When Playwitch comes knocking, 10 of Wizarding England’s finest step up to the challenge. Multiple Pairings: Ginny/Cormac/Romilda, Harry/Draco, Luna/Lucius, Remus/Hermione/Sirius, Bill/Lavender/Charlie, Fred/Verity/George.
1. Chapter 1: On Assignment

_**Authors Note:**__ Welcome dear friends, new and old, to another Golden Duo Production. This one pushes our creative juices to the limit as we explore pairings neither of us have encountered before and we hope you can stretch your mind enough to follow along._

_**Summary:**__ When Playwitch comes knocking, 10 of Wizarding England's finest step up to the challenge. Multiple Pairings: RV/CM/GW, HP/DM, LL/LM, RL/HG/SB, BW/LB/CW, FW/Verity/GW._

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_**Playwitch's Top 10 Sexiest Wizards of the Year**

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**Chapter One – On Assignment

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The streetlights of London were shining dimly in the approaching dusk. The sprawling metropolis was bustling with its usual early-evening traffic, commuters trying to rush home to their significant others or their pets and their dinners before watching television and going to bed. Horns honked as some intrepid driver lost their cool as another missed their exit off the round-about, thus creating confusion and more than a few screeching tires. It was the way of the world as they - those blissfully-ignorant commuters - knew it.

Twenty-seven floors above the mass of vehicular confusion sat three young women. They were staring at a bottle of amber liquid that sat in front of them, the dim light above them the only thing stopping them from plunging into the darkness that had fallen over the rest of the conference room where they sat. Three glasses, half-filled, sat in front of each woman, and as one took a sip, the others' eyes drifted to the piece of parchment that sat next to the bottle of alcohol.

"How the fuck did we get roped into this?"

The brunette and blonde jumped at the words that issued from the redhead. They looked from their friend down at the piece of parchment again, set on drinking to the point where the ten names that were sitting on the list would blur to an unrecognizable mess of black ink. The redhead, however, seemed intent on avoiding the sitting, brooding, and slow descent into drunkenness as she picked the list up for the third time that evening.

"I think it's because we know all of them," Romilda Vane said, sweeping her dark brown curls over her shoulder as her brown eyes flicked from the list up to Ginny Weasley's freckled face.

"We don't know _all_ of them," Lavender Brown argued, adjusting the ribbon in her hair before taking another, large sip of her firewhiskey. "I mean, we know a _lot_ of them..."

"Which brings me back to the question: how the fuck did _we_ get roped into this?" Ginny asked, becoming slightly savage. "Do they realize that four of these guys are my _brothers_?"

"I did register that, yes," Lavender said vaguely, reaching for the bottle.

Ginny slapped her hand away.

"Focus, Lav," she said sternly. "We need for figure out how to ask these guys to pose for us."

"You'd think they'd be honored by the fact that Playwitch wants to photograph them at _all_ - let alone in the nude," Romilda murmured as she finished what was left of her whiskey. "It's not like we ask just _anyone_ to be in the Top 10 Sexiest Wizards of the Year issue."

"Can I just reiterate that four of these men are my _brothers_?" Ginny repeated. "I'm a photographer. I've been on some pretty intense photo shoots. But I am telling you right now, if they expect me to photograph my brothers _naked_, they've got another thing coming!"

Lavender sighed, rubbing her face with a tired hand.

"Let's try and talk about this for a second from a less personal perspective," she said, uncharacteristically-businesslike in comparison to her two friends. "They're only giving us fifteen pages for this - that's not enough to do an individual shoot for each of them."

"We also have to worry about the cover shoot, though, blissfully, they'll all be at least _partially_ clothed for that," Ginny said, running a frustrated hand through her hair.

"And I really don't feel the need to sit down with every single one of them to write a 250-word superficial blurb about their favorite color or something - it wastes space," Romilda added.

"Suppose we put them into categories," Lavender said, taking the list from Ginny and surveying it. "Three different categories, three different group shoots, and we can do individual photos with them that same day. It spaces the shoots out more and gives us fewer people to work with at any given moment."

Romilda nodded.

"I can deal with that. Then I can actually write a full article for each group and pretend I'm a real journalist."

"I'm _not_ photographing my brothers," Ginny said stubbornly, her mind currently on one track.

Lavender rolled her eyes.

"I'll ask someone else to photograph your brothers. Though I don't understand, it's not like you haven't seen them..."

"It's one thing to catch a glimpse after a shower, it's quite another taking pictures where they have to leer at you!" Ginny cried.

"Alright, alright, you can do the other six. Now, how do we divide them up?"

Romilda grabbed the list and looked at it.

"We have a fair few Quidditch players here. Draco Malfoy plays for the Falmouth Falcons, Cormac McLaggen plays for Puddlemere United, and Harry Potter plays for the Tutshill Tornadoes. Plus, Charlie, Fred, and George Weasley all played Quidditch at Hogwarts."

"Boggles my mind how Harry and Draco are able to keep up a relationship when they play on separate professional Quidditch teams," Lavender mused.

"They were absolutely _awful_ when they were both playing for England last year," Ginny said, rolling her eyes for effect. "I thought Oliver Wood was going to kill them both, they were so _distracted_ by each other."

"I still don't understand how..."

"Ladies," Romilda said, snapping them both back to attention. "We need to figure this out tonight, because we have to start working on this tomorrow."

"Yes yes, fine fine," Ginny grumbled, taking the list back. Then she sighed. "Well, why don't we put my brothers together and call the shoot 'Battle of the Redheads' or something? Therefore, you'll only need one day to get all four of them in and I don't have to shoot it."

Lavender nodded.

"That sounds fair. Although, I quite like the title 'Sibling Rivalry'. What do you think?"

"Yes, whatever," Ginny said, deciding against her anti-alcohol stance in the face of the idea of her brothers as sexual beings and reaching for the whiskey. She shot Romilda a glare when the brunette tried to take it away and, acquiescing, Romilda let Ginny pour herself another glass before refilling her own.

"Why don't we put Cormac, Harry, and Draco in a shoot and call it 'Quidditch Hotties'?" Lavender asked after a moment of contemplation.

Ginny arched an eyebrow.

"_Quidditch Hotties_?" she asked skeptically, not particularly impressed by the title.

"It's to the point, isn't it?"

"Yes, though I don't suspect anyone will ever accuse you of being vague, Lavender."

"That just leaves Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Lucius Malfoy," Lavender said, choosing to ignore Ginny's remark. "And I was actually thinking it might be interesting to do a father-son article."

"I wouldn't," Ginny said. "Draco and Lucius don't exactly see eye-to-eye. Lucius isn't exactly thrilled about Draco's sexuality."

"I think most of the female population isn't thrilled about Draco _or_ Harry's sexuality," Lavender countered. "But I don't suppose we should make this any more difficult than it's already going to be."

"Alright then. That still leaves Sirius, Remus, and Lucius, and I don't understand why they're on this list. They're a bit old, aren't they?" Romilda asked.

"Oh, those men will be sexy at any age," Ginny with a sigh. "Just ask Hermione Granger. She and Remus have been married for almost four years and she still can't get enough of him."

"That's it!" Lavender cried, slapping Ginny congenially on the back, causing the surprised redhead to spit her whiskey all over Romilda.

"What's it? Hermione and Remus?" Romilda asked confusedly, wiping firewhiskey off her face.

"No! 'Sexy at Any Age'! That's the article for Sirius, Remus, and Lucius."

The three looked at each other and broke into identical grins.

"We have a plan," Lavender said. "Which is better than sitting around here drinking ourselves into oblivion, isn't it?"

"I still don't see why we can't do both," Ginny said. She downed her drink before cringing slightly. "So who gets to tell the boys?"

They all looked at each other before Lavender and Romilda both pointed to Ginny. The redhead's eyes darkened.

"I hate you both," she said as she poured herself another glass.

Grimmauld Place had undergone a massive renovation over the years and Ginny was still not used to walking into the house without a slight bit of trepidation that something dark and sinister would jump out to maul her. But thanks to the cunning brilliance of Hermione's powers and Draco's impeccable taste in interior decorating, the screaming banshee that had been Mrs. Black's portrait had been removed and stored in the unused basement, and Grimmauld Place had been transformed back to a grand, gleaming palace.

Without all the dark artifacts, of course.

Warm laughter came from the kitchen as Ginny – sobered slightly from her late-afternoon drinking session – readied herself to face the inhabitants. Harry and Draco had invited Sirius to move back in once Hermione had returned him from the Veil, and in turn Sirius had invited Hermione, Remus and Ron. Like the summer before her fourth year of Hogwarts, Ginny was once again in a house that sighed with a plethora of occupants.

"Ginger! This is indeed a pleasant surprise," Sirius said with a sexy smirk, using his nickname for her as Ginny walked into the kitchen. Hermione, who had been standing at the stove finishing dinner, smiled warmly at her friend.

"Hey," Ginny greeted awkwardly, staring at the happy scene before her as the men all waited for their evening meal. Oddly, Hermione had fallen into a very domestic role and although she still worked for far too many hours in the week, she took her duties as the only capable female in the house very seriously. She had even managed to get Mrs Weasley to show her how to cook.

Ginny took a deep breath of the familiar chicken and pasta recipe she had loved her whole life. Hermione also said that cooking was a lot like potions class, it was all about following the recipe. The youngest Weasley was convinced Hermione only cooked so she had an excuse to buy even more books.

"What brings you to our humble abode so late in the evening?" Draco drawled, his chair turned to the side so that Harry could give him a foot massage while they waited for dinner. Harry seemed content with this and Ginny was once again struck by just how whipped the Boy-Who-Lived was.

"I-uh..." she stuttered, wishing she hadn't had quite so much to drink earlier. All of her senses may have come in handy.

"Are you hungry? There is plenty to go 'round," Hermione offered, pulling the pot off the stove and waving her wand at the cabinet above her head to set the plates on the table.

"Uh, no. Thanks anyway, Mione, I just came by to give you all some news," she finally got out, wishing she had bought at least one of the other women with her for support.

She wasn't normally one to get embarrassed by situations, but this one in particular was unusual, even for her. It was hard to imagine telling her ex-boyfriend, ex-professor, an ex-convict, and the man she loathed from birth that a widely-circulated magazine thought they were all sexy. Not to mention the fact that her best friend happened to be married to her ex-professor…well, aside from it being incredibly incestuous, it was also quite awkward.

She needed another drink.

"You're pregnant?" Harry grinned, looking up from Draco's pale foot.

"No!"

"Getting married?" Hermione teased, knowing Ginny had been single for far longer than either of them cared to admit.

"You better not be," Ron growled from behind a Quidditch Magazine.

"No, it has to do with work," she said.

"You've been fired, and are now faced with eviction so you need a place to stay?" Draco drawled, but a distinct glint of mischief glittered in his eyes. She had to admit, Harry had been a good influence on the pure-blood snob.

"No, it's not…why would they fire me?"

"Well, that spread on Oliver Wood last month was practically porn," Harry replied.

"It was not! It was tasteful art," she defended, having the good grace to blush in memory of photographing the Puddlemere Keeper in his Olympic-sized swimming pool following his promotion to captain. It was risqué, but certainly not porn.

"He's been having to drink Polyjuice before he leaves the house these last few weeks. Poor man can't even step out for a pint without being assaulted by women." Harry shuddered slightly.

Ginny suppressed her grin at her ex-boyfriend's obvious distaste of the situation, and she wondered how he would react when it came to being _his_ turn to escape the throng of female admirers. She hoped Hermione could stockpile enough ingredients for all the men about to be involved.

"So what's your news?" Sirius asked, giving Hermione a grateful smile when she ladled the creamy pasta on to the plate in front of him.

"You've been promoted?" Hermione guessed, kissing Remus's cheek when he squeezed her arm in thanks. The couple stared at each other for a long moment before Ron's pointed '_Ahem!_' bought them out of their love-filled daze.

"Sort of," Ginny said, taking a deep breath and leaning against the door frame for support, once again regretting her ingestion of alcohol. "Lav, Romilda and I have just been given next months assignment. A fifteen-page center spread, in fact, and the cover shot."

"Oh, that's brilliant!" Hermione cried, beaming as she served herself and sat down beside her husband.

"Congratulations," Harry agreed.

"That's not all," she continued, cringing at the squeak to her voice.

"Oh? You got a pay rise?" Draco asked, pale eyebrow raised to an angle she was sure he practiced in the mirror.

"I wish," she scoffed. "Actually, we got the top 10 sexiest wizards contact."

There, nice and quick.

The table was silent a moment before Draco spoke.

"Is that all? Whose in it this year? That Auror Pigmindy again?"

Well, maybe not so quick.

"No, he hasn't been the same since that splinching accident," Hermione said, blushing a little when everyone turned to look at her. "What? He was a good looking man," she defended, before returning to her pasta with single-minded focus.

"Actually, its you," Ginny breathed.

"Who, me?" Draco asked, his familiar smirk crossing his features.

Ginny gulped.

"Well, yes. And your father, and Harry and Remus and Sirius and of course Bill, Charlie and the Twins. Oh, and Cormac McLaggen," she finished with a blush.

The table was once again stunned to silence before Hermione burst out laughing. Remus soon followed with his low, gravelly chuckle, and before Ginny knew it they were all laughing hysterically, as if she had told a fantastic joke.

"You missed me," Ron chuckled from his end, for once his food forgotten.

Ginny bit her lip and looked sheepish.

"Sorry Ron, you didn't make the cut," she replied.

Draco was the first to sober, looking at the uncomfortable red-head standing in the door way with close scrutiny.

"You're serious?" he asked.

She nodded slowly, avoiding the sharp gazes that were coming her way.

"How?" Harry asked, looking to Draco and then back to Ginny.

"We're going to do it in three separate shoots; put you into groups, as it were. We didn't choose the candidates, we were just given them," she said quickly.

"You mean, I wasn't chosen?" Ron asked, his eyes bugging out with the reality that four of his brothers _and_ his best friend were all involved and he was left out.

Ginny shrugged.

"Sorry."

"This isn't some hoax Fred and George put you up to is it?" Sirius asked, sharing a look with Remus as if neither could believe they were considered 'sexy' by the female magical population.

Following the war, Order members were revered as heroes, therefore none of them had escaped the spotlight, but while Sirius enjoyed the fact that he still had a charm with the ladies and Remus definitely enjoyed the fact that he could make his wife's toes curl, neither had been particularly comfortable with the title of 'heartthrob' that some papers and magazines had thrust upon them. It was a small price to pay, however, for living in a free world.

"Nope, and I haven't told them yet either."

"You want to photograph us all... naked?" Draco asked, pursing his lips for a moment before giving her a classic Malfoy stare-down.

"_I_ don't want to, but yes, the magazine does," she replied, meeting his stare admirably despite the fact that she was blushing to her roots.

The table seemed to process this in silence, broken only by Ron's muttered, "I bleeding wasn't bloody well chosen."

Draco turned to Harry, brushing a chunk of wayward fringe from his lover's eyes and smirking.

"I wonder who will _come out_ better on camera," he teased.

"Oh, you always _come out_ better than me," Harry grinned, winking.

"Do they have a choice?" Hermione asked, frowning at Remus who was still watching Ginny with grim intent. Sirius seemed to have fallen in to an odd silence as well.

"They can refuse, but it was a reader poll. The results have already gone to print. We can just publish an old photo of you I suppose..." she trailed off, not wanting to be the one to have to explain to her boss why the candidates refused to be filmed.

"How were you planning on doing them? The photos, I mean?" Sirius asked.

"They would be tasteful, of course," Ginny said quickly, more than happy to get to a more technical ground. "No full-frontal nudity or anything. I mean, our readers would happy with just a glimpse of skin if that's all you'd comfortable in."

There was a laughter to his gray eyes that forewarned a joke she was probably not drunk enough to hear, so she pressed on:

"You, Remus and Lucius would be some studio shots – black and white I was thinking," she continued. Then she turned to Harry and Draco, who were still making eyes at each other. "You two," she said pointedly, heaving their attention back to her. "Have been paired with Cormac. We've already booked the Golden Snitch Stadium. Though we were thinking of using the showers instead of the field itself..." she trailed off.

"And Bill, Charlie and the Twins?" Ron asked, his teeth clenched together in anger.

"Charlie can't leave the reserve; we've already contacted him. Bill is going to be in Europe already on business, so we figured Lavender, Fred, and George would floo to Romania in a couple of days. She was thinking about a 'shirts versus skins' Quidditch match," she replied.

"You're not going to Romania?" Sirius asked.

"No, I think there's something intrinsically creepy about photographing your own brothers in the buff, thank you very much," she said, regaining some of her usual wit with a grin.

"It doesn't sound so bad..." Remus said slowly, looking to his wife, who had gone a mottled shade of red.

"Not if _all_ of us have to endure it," Sirius agreed.

"Could be fun," Harry added, his emerald eyes smoldering as he looked at Draco as if to say he would do it just to see his lover in the shower.

Ginny rolled her eyes at the display, but regained her focus as she realized that no one was saying 'no'.

"So…you'll do it?" she asked, crossing her fingers behind her back.

"As long as things don't get too out of hand, sure," Sirius agreed, grinning and turning to Remus, who was sharing a silent exchange with Hermione.

"I…er…I think I'll need some time," Remus said, looking back at Ginny.

"That's fine," Ginny said, looking pleadingly at Hermione. "But please…this is a big deal for us and we were really only handed it because we know you guys and they thought it would be easier."

"Not everyone has said 'yes' yet, have they?" Hermione asked.

"Well…everyone that I've asked so far," Ginny replied. "Which has basically been Bill and Charlie, because we needed to set up where the photo shoot would be. Most awkward floo calls of my _life_, by the way," she added, which caused Hermione to grin in spite of herself.

"Come on, 'Mione," Sirius said, putting his arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "What's the worst that can happen, eh? Some hot young thing sees Moony and decides she wants him instead? You can hex her out of her bobby socks before she gets within ten feet of him."

Hermione turned to the raven-haired man with a cocked eyebrow.

"Bobby socks?" she asked simply.

He grinned.

"I _knew_ that would get you away from concentrating on the 'hot young thing' part."

"Hermione knows I don't want a hot young thing anyway, 'cuz I've got her," Remus said stoutly.

There was a pause before the rest of the table burst out laughing again as Hermione gave her husband a patient – albeit annoyed – look. Re-evaluating his words in his head, Remus flushed slightly and took his wife's hand.

"I…I didn't mean it like that…" he stuttered.

Hermione shook her head.

"If you want to do the shoot, by all means," she sniffed. "But just know that I will be accompanying you."

"Brilliant!" Sirius said with a smirk. "So it's settled."

"Right," Ginny said softly. "Can't wait."

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_Thanks for reading! Leave us love!_


	2. Chapter 2: Quidditch Hotties I

**Chapter Two - Quidditch Hotties – Part I

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_Romilda, Cormac, and Ginny

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Harry gave a sharp wolf whistle from behind her, and Ginny had to fight the urge to turn around and glare at her ex-boyfriend. She continued to look through her lens at Draco, whose face transformed in to something purely sexual as he smirked at his lover.

"Focus!" she said sharply, the pureblood turning back to her, leaving the smirk on his face as he closed his eyes and leant back into the steady stream of water that currently cascaded over every sharp plane and lean muscle.

She had to admit, the man was hot, if a little arrogant and snobbish.

Hearing Romilda repeat the same question three times, she realized Harry must be paying as much attention to the pureblood as she was. The man was, after all, naked and wet; it was hard to look away. Maybe Romilda should have conducted the interview in the club rooms, and not the low wooden bench in the locker room.

Draco opened his eyes and looked directly in to the camera, bringing his arms up to brush his wet hair back from his face, his biceps bulging with the movement, his pectorals and abdomen contracting. She felt her breath catch as she met his piercing silver eyes and suddenly saw what thousands before her must have witnessed.

Draco Malfoy was a god.

"Right," she coughed, pulling back from the lens, busying herself with several buttons, "That should be enough," she told him, refusing to meet his eye.

"No need to blush Ginger, you're tits are about as appealing to me as a bowl full of fried flobber worms," he drawled, turning the shower off and grabbing a nearby towel.

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the spell immediately broken. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from giving an equally-scathing remark back, and turned to address Romilda, who was watching their exchange with amusement.

"Any word from Cormac yet?" she asked the brunette, who had just finished with Harry's interview.

Romilda shrugged and Ginny felt her mood grow blacker.

"You did owl him with the time and place?" she asked.

"Of course, and he replied he would be here," Romilda replied mildly, used to Ginny's rapid mood swings.

"Then where the fuck is he?" Ginny asked, stomping back to her camera.

"Maybe he forgot how to use the Floo network," Harry grinned, looking entirely too comfortable sitting there in a towel.

"Maybe he forgot how to tie his laces," Draco countered.

Romilda glowered, being a massive Puddlemere United fan and therefore a Cormac McLaggen fan girl. Other clubs had running jokes about the Keepers lack of intelligence - or rather total arrogance which led people to believe he lacked any sense - but most of it was grossly exaggerated.

"He's not stupid, you know," she said hotly, pursing her lips as she sorted through her papers.

"We didn't say he was stupid," Harry grinned. "Just... special."

"Who's special now?" a voice asked from the doorway.

"Uh..." Harry said unintelligibly, not used to being caught out.

"You," Draco replied cheerily.

"Cormac!" Romilda cried at the same time, jumping to her feet.

"About bloody time," Ginny grumbled, placing a new roll of film in her camera, refusing to watch the man voted Hottest Keeper of all Time - over Oliver Wood - disrobe.

"Harry! Fancy seeing you here," Cormac said, ignoring the various greetings and focussing on The-Boy-Who-Lived.

"Uh... yeah," Harry replied, looking to Draco for help. Draco merely smirked and watched on. Cormac had a bit of a man-crush on The-Boy-Who-Lived-turned-Man-That-Conquered, even though he was completely straight; it was widely believed that it was merely Harry's fame that was the cause of the often uncomfortable attention.

"Where have you been?" Ginny asked, interrupting whatever he had been about to say. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

Cormac turned to look at her, as if he had just noticed there were two women in the room.

"Ginny Weasley," he said slowly, his eyes racking from her feet to her head and back again. Ginny crossed her arms over her chest uncomfortably and continued to glare at him.

"Cormac McLaggen," she replied, pursing her lips in a very Molly Weasley fashion.

"Where have you been hiding for the last year?" he drawled, taking a sauntering step toward her.

Ginny shot the other occupants in the room a bewildered look, but Draco and Harry looked like they were about to burst into laughter and Romilda watched on with undisguised lust for the man who was coming on to her friend.

Ginny opened and closed her mouth, for once at a loss for words. Cormac came to a stop in front of her, his hand coming out to stroke her cheek. She slapped the offending appendage away from her and regained her frazzled senses.

"You're late and we don't have all day. Take off your clothes," she practically growled at him, turning back to busy herself with the camera, trying to hide the blush and frantic rise and fall of her chest at his close proximity. He would be much worse if he knew how he affected her.

"For you, anything," he replied cheekily, not moving away as his fingers went to the buttons of his pristine blue robes, which were exactly the same colour as his eyes.

Draco let out a snort and went to sit beside Harry, his hand coming to rest intimately against the other mans knee as the whole room became enraptured with the Keeper getting his kit off in front of them.

"So Harry," Cormac said casually as he draped his robe over a hook in the wall. "Did you manage to get out to the after-party last week?"

"What after-party?" Harry asked, following the other man's fingers as they undid the black dress shirt with his team's emblem emblazoned on the breast. Cormac either didn't notice that everyone was watching this, or he didn't care.

"After the match, on Saturday. There was the hottest bird you have ever seen...big tits, blonde hair..." he said, sliding his toned arms from the shirt and letting it fall to the tiled floor.

Ginny watched as Harry's eyes darted to Cormac's face in disbelief and tried not to laugh.

"As thrilling as this conversation is," Ginny quipped. "Do you think you could hurry up?"

"That eager to see if the rumours are true?" Cormac asked with a disarming grin, forgetting about the buxom blonde.

"What rumours?" Romilda asked eager to hear any fact or fiction from him.

'_Always the reporter,'_ Ginny thought wryly.

"That my foot size really does match my co-"

"Thank you!" Ginny shouted, interrupting him mid-wink.

Draco and Harry were almost doubled over each other with laughter. Cormac quickly shucked off his pants, smirking when the whole room noticed he had gone commando. He didn't seem to mind Ginny interrupting him. In fact, he seemed to enjoy making her uncomfortable.

"We'll do the group shot now, so Harry and Draco don't have to endure you for too long," Ginny muttered tersely, indicating the enlarged shower stall.

"So big tits you say?" Draco asked Cormac, as he removed his towel and stepped back in to the stall.

"Uh...I...yeah, huge," the shorter blonde stuttered, losing his usual confidence. Cormac gulped as the toned, naked man walked toward him, a lazy smirk giving his mouth a teasing lilt. Harry followed behind and turned the water on again, shooting Draco a disapproving look for baiting the Keeper.

"Not too hot?" Harry asked, as Draco opened his mouth to speak again.

"It's fine," the pureblood answered, reaching behind Cormac to pinch Harry's arse. Cormac made a noise and moved, obviously thinking Draco was aiming a little closer to home.

"Relax," Draco teased, his breath washing over Cormac's neck teasingly.

"Draco! Leave the poor man alone or I am going to film you molesting him and send the howlers to your house!" Ginny said sharply, reminding them all why they were there.

"You're just no fun these days," Draco told her, dipping his head under the water, his arms brushing lightly against Cormac's. Harry chuckled when he felt the straight man between them jump again, but schooled his face back into what Draco liked to call his 'Public Pose'.

"Okay, Draco, move a little to the side, that's it. Harry, a little more in to Cormac…go on, it's not gonna kill you! That's it, drape your arm around his shoulder...Thank you!" Ginny instructed from behind her lens, feeling Romilda come up behind her to view the scene better.

"If this isn't a sold-out issue, I am going to eat my notebook," the brunette murmured in her ear.

They watched as Cormac got in to the swing of things, forgetting the inappropriate advances of the man beside him and falling into the familiar poses that had been a major factor of his very public career. The girls watched as they flexed muscles, pushed each other under the water playfully and pouted comically when she instructed them to.

Romilda had to admit that Ginny was in her element at Playwitch. Though the youngest Weasley was using the job as a stepping stone for much higher journalism, she seemed to come alive behind her camera as she bossed around the male models and - in this case - the men in her life. Romilda had always been somewhat jealous of Ginny's comfort around half-naked - or at times, fully naked - men. There was a bravado about her that Romilda found highly enviable.

"Alright, I think I've got enough film for you two to shove off," Ginny said to Draco and Harry after about an hour of posing and re-posing the three men until Romilda was unsure there was a pose the three hadn't been in. "Go in and get changed and if there's an issue - heaven forbid - I'll let you know. Harry James Potter, if you get so much as a _drop_ of water near this camera that nick on your forehead will be the _least_ of your worries!"

Harry, who had been shaking his hair out near the camera, quickly shuffled away. The bespectacled man had been on the receiving end of one of Ginny's hexes, and he was certain that she was the reason his chest hair seemed afraid to grow.

"Where do you want me, love?" Cormac said, shooting her a dazzling smile.

She glared.

"Just stay put for a moment, I've got the change the film. And don't call me 'love'," she added, shooting Romilda a look as the curly-haired brunette withered slightly.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Cormac said, shooting her a wink. Romilda grasped Ginny's wand hand to stop her from hexing the poor man.

"Hey Gin - can we get copies of those? For...er...recreational purposes?" Draco asked, towelling his hair dry as he walked toward the lockers that held their robes.

"I will not be a purveyor of your tools of debauchery, Draco," Ginny said, rolling the film into the camera. "Now don't distract me or I'll show your father some of the candids I took today."

Draco's eyes darkened and Harry shot her a look, but Ginny was beyond caring. She had two exceptionally good-looking wizards fawning over each other and another ridiculously attractive wizard fawning just for the sake of fawning. She was not in a good mood and she didn't need Draco's pouting.

"Alright, McLaggen, back to the shower," Ginny said, having started to use the Keeper's last name to avoid him mistaking familiarity for positive attention. "I want you to put your hand behind your head and lean against the wall...that's it...yes, I intend your face to be somewhat masked by water - believe it or not that's not the body part that people who buy this magazine are eager to see..."

Romilda smirked slightly as the water obscured a very distinct pout from the Puddlemere star.

Another half an hour passed as Ginny barked instructions toward Cormac, getting more and more agitated as he started suggesting ones that she wasn't particularly interested in photographing. Harry and Draco, who had dressed and were sitting watching the good-looking man pose, were no more of a help either. Draco would occasionally throw out an inappropriate comment that had Cormac looking very uncomfortable at the exact wrong moment while Harry's growing attention to his boyfriend had Cormac looking like a deer caught in headlights the rest of the time.

With two more frames left to her second roll of film, Ginny was less than pleased.

"Either you two get out or so help me I will _throw_ you out," she growled at the two chuckling men sitting on the sidelines. Harry opened his mouth to say something glib, but one look from Ginny's bright brown eyes had him silenced as he pulled Draco out of the room.

Ginny snapped her last two pictures and then sighed with relief.

"Alright, Cormac, you can get out of the water now. I'm done."

"Or you could stay," Romilda said, trying to keep the girlish lilt out of her voice. "Whatever's more comfortable."

Realizing he would get nearly nowhere with Ginny, Cormac turned to Romilda with a million-watt smile.

"Which would _you_ prefer, love?" he drawled.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but Romilda flushed to the color of a very ripe tomato.

"Um...so…I'm going to interview you now. That is, if you don't mind," Romilda said.

"Of course he doesn't mind. It's what he's here for," Ginny mumbled, earning her a glare from her co-worker, but if Cormac heard he didn't acknowledge it as he continued to smile at Romilda.

"I've always thought all work and no play makes a girl a bit dull, don't you think?" he asked, taking a step out of the water toward Romilda and batting the woman's quill and parchment out of her hands. Utterly star-struck, Romilda didn't notice that it was headed for a puddle and had Ginny not charmed it quickly to the bench, Romilda would have lost her entire interview.

"I...um...yes, I...I suppose," Romilda stuttered.

Cormac's smirk grew.

"Join me in the shower, beautiful. I bet none of your other interviewees offered something nearly as intimate as that."

"I...well...no, they haven't, but...I don't have any clothes..."

"Neither do I," he breathed, his lips inches from the younger woman's ear.

Ginny paused, looking at the two. She had to admit that they made a gorgeous couple. Cormac stood tall - a good half-a-dozen inches on Romilda - but Romilda's dazzling dark eyes and smooth olive-toned skin sat in complementary contrast to Cormac's baby-blues and fair complexion. Ginny arched an eyebrow, and quickly loaded her camera with some extra film she had brought just in case. She snapped a couple of photos of the couple, smiling slightly as neither of them seemed to notice the clicking of the shutter.

"I...I don't suppose I should..." Romilda was saying, glancing at Ginny as though wondering if she would give her permission.

Ginny chuckled.

"My contract doesn't state that I _can't_ be naked in the presence of a model, and I don't think yours does either," she said and smirked as Romilda decided that was all the clarification she needed. Truth be told, Ginny was far from a saint when it came to the men she met and photographed. One of the reasons why the Oliver Wood spread had been so smouldering was because it had occurred right after Oliver had given her an _intimate_ tour of his billiard table, his kitchen counter, his jacuzzi tub, and his water bed.

Romilda quickly unbuttoned her robe, throwing the pieces of clothing around without the slightest care that she was being counterproductive and throwing them into the water. Being the caring friend she was, however, Ginny charmed each piece of clothing to float over to the lockers, folding themselves neatly and placing them on the shelves.

"Well, Miss Vane, I do believe you are the loveliest journalist _I've_ ever met," Cormac said with a grin as Romilda - her modesty telling her to maintain her underwear - stepped under the stream of warm water. She let out a small gasp, letting it run through her hair and Ginny had to swallow hard to stop herself from watching the running rivulets that travelled between Romilda's bountiful cleavage and down her flat stomach.

"I...er...well...this isn't my _conventional_ interviewing style," she said, blushing prettily as Cormac's eyes swept unabashedly up and down her body.

"I should hope not," he said. "After all, I would hate to think of you interviewing Minister Shacklebolt about house-elf labour reforms while in lingerie. The poor man wouldn't get anything done with such an image as yours on the brain."

Ginny's eyebrow arched, but she said nothing as she continued to watch the pair, shooting a photo every so often as she caught the heated look that was starting to fill both their faces.

"You read that article?" Romilda asked softly. "I mean...it wasn't much of an interview...just a few comments from the Minister, really. It was at the bottom of page 10...I'm amazed you saw it at all..."

"Not a lot of people know this about me, Miss Vane, but I actually know how to read," Cormac said, a gentle smile so different from the ones he shot the paparazzi crossing his face. "And I read the _Daily Prophet_ and _Evening Prophet_ every day - cover to cover."

"Oh," Romilda said, turning to Ginny in slight amazement. Ginny's look matched the brunette's surprise. "I...I didn't know that about you."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I was actually quite amazed that the Minister would comment to a journalist about house-elf labour reforms. It doesn't seem to be his area of...shall we say..._interest_."

"Oh the Minister is _very_ interested in house-elf labour reforms," Romilda said, mistaking Cormac's sly jibe on the subject matter for general ignorance to the Minister's domestic policy. "Well, any reforms involving magical creatures. One of his trusted advisors, Hermione Granger-Lupin, helped me get the interview..."

"Hermione...Hermione Granger-Lupin? Granger got married?" Cormac interrupted, looking at Ginny for clarification.

"Yes," Ginny said mildly. "Four years ago. To Remus Lupin. Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

Cormac arched an eyebrow.

"Also formally known as _Professor_ Remus Lupin? Of Hogwarts?"

Ginny sighed.

"Yes, even he."

"Did you know Hermione?" Romilda asked, a note of envy in her voice.

"Not as _intimately_ as I would have liked, but that _was_ six years ago. Tastes change."

Ginny caught the flash of jealousy on Romilda's face - saw the moment of insecure hesitation on Cormac's as he realized he had said the wrong thing - before they both schooled their expressions back to their previous lust filled stupor.

If she had been anything but a photographer she wouldn't have noticed the miniscule morphing of facial features, but it was her job to read body language; to know if someone was comfortable or not, happy or sad, angry or exhilarated. Emotive portraits were works of art in and of themselves, and the tiniest tensing of a muscle could throw a whole shot out. In this case, she was reading – and feeling – arousal pouring off the couple in waves.

"So, is there anything else you are _passionate_ about?" Romilda asked, clearly trying to steer the subject back to the interview. "Besides Magical Creature Rights and Quidditch of course." When she laughed, the sound came out slightly high, and nervous.

Her palms were resting on his impressive pectoral muscles, her fingers tangling in the smattering of golden hairs. Ginny zoomed in for a close-up of Romilda's neatly trimmed nails, hoping the spontaneous shot turned out as she hoped.

Cormac wrapped his arms around her, bringing his hands to rest low on the brunette's hips, appearing to contemplate her question seriously, his fingers stroking along the waist band of her knickers showing his mind wasn't far off the warm, wet body currently moulded to his.

"Lots of things. I like Muggle television, although I wouldn't say I am _passionate_ about it. I think the Muggles are really clever, finding so many ways to survive. I think we take magic for granted sometimes," he said, his fingers dipping just beneath the elastic, causing Romilda to shiver in his arms.

"So you're passionate about Muggle Studies?" Romilda asked breathily, her eyes locking with his, her lips parting slightly.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he drawled, his hands dipping beneath the lace this time, his large palms cupping her behind, the tips of his fingers emerging through the elastic at the legs. Ginny couldn't resist taking several more snaps when Romilda rose onto shapely calves, her hands slipping up to his shoulders.

"Anything else?" she whispered, her lips brushing over the line of his jaw, as if she couldn't help herself.

"What?" he asked, his hands helping to lift her higher.

"Anything else you're passionate about?" she breathed, her lips hovering a fraction from his, her eyes falling closed.

"Yes," he replied, his voice so low Ginny had to strain to catch their words.

"What?" Romilda asked, her small pink tongue poking out to lick her lips. The click of the camera was the only sound in the room for a moment.

"You," he whispered, moments before his lips met hers in a searing kiss. The water, the room, even Ginny seemed to fade to nothing.

Ginny took shot after shot of the undulating couple. She captured shots of Cormac's fumbling fingers as he found the clasp of Romilda's bra. She zoomed in as the brunette speared her forever-neat nails through his golden curls, tugging his head further down as the kiss took on new heat. She even managed to capture the split second where they pulled back as if on cue, staring into each others eyes before Cormac lifted her up in to his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist.

The water continued to pound down on them as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. Ginny felt no shame in filming the couple as they turned to the wall, Romilda's back pressed against the cold tiles. She took the camera off its tri-pod and walked around to the side, watching as Cormac suckled on Romilda's full breasts.

The journalist cried out as he thrust his hips against her lace-covered core, his mouth moving back up the column of her neck, running along her jaw line only to capture her lips in another soul-searing, desperate kiss. Ginny felt herself growing more and more aroused by the moving couple in front of her, her face flushed with desire as her breaths came a little faster.

They were beautiful in their mindless passion.

Cormac pulled back, his hips still pinned to the witch in front of him and his eyes raking over her wet hair, her parted lips, and her heaving breasts. He reached between them – his fingers hooking the edge of the lace – and pulled it far enough to one side to see the wet, pink lips hidden under a neatly-trimmed thatch of curls. He cursed softly and brought his index finger in to trace the edge of her folds. Romilda trembled and bucked at his touch, and Cormac smiled in reaction.

Ginny watched as he hooked an arm under each knee, opening her wide to his gaze, his stunning arousal standing to attention between them. Romilda opened sleepy, lust-filled eyes and found herself equally as enthralled by the slow process of Cormac joining their bodies.

The camera lay forgotten momentarily as the three watched with rapt attention as Cormac slid slowly into Romilda, his mouth going slack after a few inches and her eyes falling closed once more. He remained motionless inside her for a long minute, his face a mask of pure pleasure, his body seeming so at home engulfed in the female body. Ginny barely remembered to take photos of that moment – as if he was posing just for her now – despite the fact that he was barely aware she stood beside them.

Romilda made a small mewling sound in the back of her throat, her hands once again tangling in his hair as she urged him to move. Cormac didn't need to be told twice as he pulled back with equal slowness only to slam back in to her powerfully. Ginny heard a noise come from her mouth before she could stop it, but rather than stop, Cormac seemed encouraged, increasing his pace so that his thrusting hips became a blur.

Romilda cried out and buckled beneath his powerful lovemaking, her head tossing from side to side against the tiled wall. He watched her for long moments, twisting his hips, thrusting first softly then harder and alternating between slow and fast. As a fascinated observer of human behaviours, Ginny realized that he was gauging Romilda's reactions – which, in Ginny's opinion, was a lot more effort than the average man ever cared to put in.

She watched him, still taking photos now and then, but lost in thought. Cormac McLaggen had a reputation as a ladies' man and a lover possessed of such skills that eighty-year-old women had been known to proposition him. Ginny had never really understood it, believing most of it to be merely rumour, but watching him now she had to admit that the rumours were born of some truth. Cormac exuded more finesse and care than the average married man did when it came to his lover. He clearly gained pleasure by giving it.

And pleasured Romilda was.

The witch bounced in his arms, her mouth slack, her face flushed as she panted and moaned. Cormac settled on a steady pace of moderate speed, consistently meeting her pelvis with deep, unforgiving thrusts that had him hitting a spot deep inside her each and every time.

Ginny stepped around behind them again, setting the camera back on the tripod with a click and taking another photo of the writhing, pulsing mass of muscles that was Cormac McLaggen's back and shoulders. His knees bent slightly as he pushed up high into Romilda, causing both of them to groan in satisfaction and Ginny's fingers to fly on the buttons of her favourite piece of technology, capturing the flexing musculature of his arse.

"Care to join us?" he grunted, readjusting his grip on Romilda's thighs, opening her even wider to his thrusts.

It took Ginny a moment to realize he was speaking to her, and in her surprise at being acknowledged, she jolted away from the lens.

"I think you've got your hands full already."

The husky note to her voice surprised her, and Cormac turned his head to the side to look at her, she saw a knowing grin spreading over his wet face.

"You're missing out," he all but sang before Romilda demanded his attention once more by gripping his head and kissing him fiercely.

Ginny was tempted – _very_ tempted – to join the couple. The sights and sounds of an act she had gone without since the now-infamous Oliver Wood photo shoot were slowly starting to rake on her very last shred of self-control. But as aroused as she felt – and as desperate as she was getting – she was in no way _that_ desperate. He may have had the perfect body, but he was still Cormac McLaggen on the inside.

And Cormac McLaggen involved in a menage-a-trois with two employees of Playwitch Magazine was a trophy Ginny was unsure she was willing to hand the arrogant Quidditch star.

"Ginny," Romilda's breathless voice called out as Ginny - finally finding her sense of modesty - turned her back on the two with a twinge of regret that she couldn't photograph them to their completion. She turned again, however, at the sound of her friend's voice and couldn't help but feel strangely intrigued by the flash of lust that burned in Romilda's eyes.

"I was just leaving," Ginny said, subtly tapping her camera with her wand to get it to take pictures every few seconds. It was far from a perfect system, but it was better than nothing.

"No, come," Romilda replied, her breaths coming out short as Cormac drove her to her orgasm. She took her perfectly-manicured hand from his shoulder and gestured for Ginny to join them.

"Please," Romilda whispered.

As if drawn to them by some unknown force, Ginny soon found herself next to the thrusting couple, her eyes locked on Romilda's dark, ebony orbs as Cormac took a hand from Romilda's leg and brought it to Ginny's face. He cupped her cheek, gently turning her to him, and she felt his lips upon hers in a kiss that was so gentle, Ginny would have hardly believed it came from the man that stood in front of her had he not been slanting his mouth over hers.

"I knew you couldn't resist," he breathed arrogantly once he pulled away, his own breath getting shorter as he thrust just a bit faster. Romilda's breath hitched and she reached out for Ginny's hand, bringing it to her breast and giving Ginny a look that told her it was alright - this once - to give in to those secret desires that all young witches had when looking at their attractive female friends.

Ginny was fascinated by the full, smooth flesh of Romilda's breasts, finding it odd to touch another woman so intimately. As she drew the pad of her thumb over a straining nipple, however, Ginny saw Romilda's head loll back, her face a canvas of unadulterated pleasure. Surging forward, Ginny leaned in, kissing the flesh before taking a dusky nipple between her lips, both exhilarated and terrified by her own actions.

Romilda's fingers gripping Ginny's hair told the redhead that she was doing something right.

Ginny ran one hand up Romilda's stomach to fondle the neglected breast, only to find another hand there already. Realizing that Cormac was going to be there whether Ginny wanted him or not, she did not dissuade him as his other hand - free as Ginny's body was effectively pinning Romilda's thigh to his hip - skimmed down her back to push her skirt to the wet floor. Ginny didn't seem to mind as her body and clothes became soaked by the running shower - in fact, Romilda realized with a slight smile as Ginny's tongue laved her nipple, she was certain the other woman hadn't even realized the shower was still running.

They were all too caught up in their own pleasure to notice the sound of the door swinging closed, nor the sound of hurried footsteps echoing along the stone halls just beyond the lockers.

Romilda was in a haze of sexual desire and heightened pleasure as Cormac's cock thrust deeply in and out of her and Ginny's soft lips and exploratory tongue gave her breasts an admirable amount of attention. Knowing of Ginny's keen interest in Oliver Wood, Romilda also knew she wouldn't have to worry about any repercussions of their little tête-à-tête in the shower. It was all just part of an experience that neither one of them would forget.

Ginny jumped slightly as Cormac's hand slid down her lower back and into her underwear, cupping her arse briefly before sliding a finger along her folds. Gripping the Keeper's bicep, Ginny moaned slightly against Romilda's skin as Cormac teased her clit, circling his finger around the small bud of nerves and watching was Ginny bucked against his hand, seeking a slightly-harder touch and nipping lightly at Romilda's nipple as the observant and accommodating man acquiesced.

Romilda cried out as Ginny's teeth grazed her skin, her body turning molten hot as the sound of the other woman's moans spurred her into her own orgasm. When Cormac's cock slid deep into her body to hit the ever-elusive sweet spot within her, Romilda arched her back, moaning loudly as she felt her insides tense and her nerve-endings fray to the point where every touch, every caress was setting off fireworks. Ginny's tongue, still attending to her nipples, was shooting pleasure straight to Romilda's core as she gripped Cormac's hair.

"Bloody hell," Cormac groaned, his fingers speeding up and Ginny cried out, her own orgasm hitting her hard. Never before had anyone made her cum so hard just by touching her, but there she was, sandwiched between one of her friends and a man she would have - under normal circumstances - _never_ considered touching unless absolute necessary and the continued survival of humankind was involved. But there she was, bent double as her ecstasy had her fumbling for something - or someone - to keep her upright.

A sharp cry from Cormac had Romilda and Ginny both turning their attention to the man who had caused them such pleasure. They were both amazed by his complete lack of inhibition as he came, showing his pleasure through the beauty of his facial expressions. Ginny hoped that the camera, which was now floating around them, was able to catch such physical candour. From the sounds of quick clicks, Ginny was certain the camera knew exactly what was required of it.

They all stood there, one of Romilda's legs falling from Cormac's grasp as the taller man gripped at the wall, trying to remain standing as his stomach still contracted slightly with the aftermath of their shared pleasure. Ginny's semi-clothed, very _wet_ body was pinned to Romilda's, soft curve moulding to soft curve.

Glancing at her friend, Romilda smiled slightly.

"I can't believe we just did that," she whispered, her eyes shining as she was unable to tear her gaze away from Cormac.

"Neither can I," Ginny murmured, running a hand over her own face as she realized what exactly she had done. It wasn't that she was ashamed - she was an artist above all things and every good artist learned that experimentation was key to unlocking hidden inspiration. It was just that she could only imagine what would happen if word got out and she found herself in the awkward - not to mention highly-embarrassing – situation of having to explain things to her friends and family.

As if thinking the same thing, both Romilda and Ginny turned to a recovering Cormac.

"No one will ever know about this," Ginny said sharply, getting straight to the point as she retrieved her now-wet wand from her hip and pointed it menacingly at the older man.

"It's nothing personal. It's just that our reputations..." Romilda tried to explain, but a small smile appeared on Cormac's face.

"As much as I would _love_ to brag that I was able to have this experience with you two lovely ladies, I can guarantee you that no one would believe me," he said, his eyes taking on a tender glow that Ginny hadn't seen all day. "You two are considered far out of my league - not that _I_ ever considered that for a second," he added and Ginny, her nerves still slightly snappish toward the infuriating man, slapped his shoulder hard.

"If this gets out, Cormac McLaggen..." Ginny started, but he shook his head.

"You have my word, as a gentleman, that I will not breathe a word of this to anyone," he said solemnly.

Ginny's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing and it seemed that - at least for the moment - she was appeased.

Packing up her camera and tripod and casting a drying spell over herself, Ginny turned to the two who were still naked and pressed up against one another as they leaned heavily on the tiled walls.

"I'm going to be in the dark room for the majority of the evening," she said, the statement directed more toward Romilda. "You can...er...finish your interview and I'll see you tomorrow at the studio."

"Alright," Romilda said with a small smile, and she watched her friend exit the room.

Then, she looked at the man in front of her.

"So..." she said, feeling her heart start to drop as she realized what the aftermath of their coupling would inevitably bring. "How do you want me to do this? Should I just leave? Would that make it easier? I won't grovel, I promise."

Cormac looked at her curiously.

"What _are_ you on about?" he asked.

"Well, I...I suppose I assumed that this...I mean, us...well...it was a one-time-thing."

His eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"I think that's the first time anyone's ever said something like that to me," he mused, more contemplative than conceited. "I don't know how I feel about that."

Romilda's brow furrowed.

"You're known...well, your reputation suggests..."

"Romilda, baby, the fact that you just eagerly accepted having an absolute mind-blowing shag in the middle of the Quidditch showers while one of your good-looking friends sucks your nipples has just solidified a beautiful fantasy for me." He leaned in and licked the shell of her ear. "And I'm not likely to let that go anytime soon."

Romilda looked slightly wide-eyed as Cormac lifted her back into his arms and carried her over to the bench in the locker rooms. Laying her down and kissing her, Romilda wondered how long she was going to be able to keep him interested.

As she felt his lips on her neck - re-igniting the flames within her - she vowed that she would do everything in her power to keep him interested.

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_Thanks for Reading!_


	3. Chapter 3: Quidditch Hotties II

_**Author's Note:** So we realize that we didn't send out review replies for the latest installment of 'Nargles' so we're just going to take the opportunity right now to say 'thanks' to all those who reviewed - we always enjoy hearing your thoughts on the work that we enjoy doing._

_We would also like to say that to those who are anti-slash or anti-Drarry, this is not the chapter for you. As it does nothing to further the plot [Plot? What plot? There's a plot?] if you decide to skip this chapter and wait for the next one [which is part one of the 'Sexy at Any Age' photo shoot] we completely understand._

_Also, much thanks to our new BETA! diamond-helen, you are AWESOME!  
_

_That said...on with the show!_

_

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_**Chapter Three – Quidditch Hotties – Part II

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_Harry and Draco

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_

"Ginger's a bit amped up, don't you think?" Draco asked Harry as they sauntered down the underground tunnels beneath the Golden Snitch Stadium. Having spent a lot of time in the stadium when they had both played for England, they knew the passages fairly well. Especially the ones that had the least foot traffic, as those were the ones Oliver Wood always found them in having a brief, passionate snog.

"I think she's just nervous," the bespectacled man said in mild defence of his ex-girlfriend. "After all, this _is_ the biggest thing she's done for Playwitch. She's bound to be a bit nervous about it."

"Don't see why," Draco said. "From what I've heard, she felt more than comfortable with Oliver Wood when she shot that scandalous spread."

Harry chuckled.

"From what _I've_ heard, Oliver wasn't exactly complaining."

They walked together in silence for a few minutes before Draco's brow furrowed slightly.

"I'm amazed she was able to command McLaggen's attention like that," he commented. "That man has the attention span of a fruit fly."

"Ginny's used to ordering blokes about," Harry replied. "Doesn't matter who. I think that was one of the problems when we were dating. Well," he grinned slightly, glancing at the blond man next to him. "That and the fact that I was fixating on a certain aristocratic Slytherin."

A smile tugged at his lover's lips.

"I don't know who you mean," he said, shooting Harry an arched eyebrow.

Harry chuckled and shook his head as they reached the entry way. Falling in love with Draco Malfoy was the absolute last thing Harry had expected of himself as he entered the halls of Hogwarts his sixth year – especially after Draco's foot had none-too-gently made contact with Harry's nose on the Hogwarts Express. With every day that had passed, however, Harry had found himself watching Draco with less of a hateful eye and more of an appreciation of the pureblood's devastating good looks.

Of course, things turned around a bit once Harry realized that Draco was not the cold-hearted, manipulative bully he pretended to be half the time. But even now – five years after their graduation from Hogwarts – the idea of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy being lovers still confused the hell out of those who had experienced their heated duels.

Pushing open the doors to leave the stadium, the wind whipped around them suddenly, blowing cold rain against their faces. Harry wrapped his cloak around himself tighter but as Draco reached for his, he realized that it wasn't around his shoulders like he had initially thought.

The blond groaned.

"I left my cloak in the locker rooms," he said.

"Leave it," Harry said. "I need to shower and we have to meet Ron at the Leaky later."

Draco gave his boyfriend an incredulous look.

"Shower? We've just spent several hours in a shower!"

Harry fixed Draco with a stern look.

"It wasn't a _real_ shower. I want to take a _real_ shower...with soap."

"Why on earth didn't you take one this morning?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Because _you_ were in the bathroom fixing your hair for 30 minutes, that's why. Bit stupid, really, considering you _knew_ we were going to be doing a photo shoot in water today."

"Potter, not all of us can get away with looking like we've just rolled out of bed. _Some_ of us have a bit of decency and a reputation to uphold."

Harry heaved a sigh, in no mood to get into a cosmetic argument with his slightly-vain lover.

"Go on. Go get your cloak. Quickly, though, please."

"Yeah yeah...like I'm so eager to see Weasley tonight," Draco mumbled as he turned and started back down the passage.

Had someone told him ten years ago, when he was at school and in the midst of a massive rivalry with Harry, that he would end up being in a deeply-committed, highly-satisfying relationship with the man, Draco would have hexed the person who told him and laughed hysterically while doing it. But there was something about Harry that had grown on him - especially after he had posed topless on the cover of Witch Weekly with a sheepish smile and the headline saying "Yup...I'm Gay."

Simple, effective, and to the point, Draco had kept that issue for longer than he cared to admit, if only to gaze into the fathomless emerald eyes of the man who would one day become his lover.

Sighing slightly as the image of Harry's naked body earlier that day drifted into his mind, Draco pushed open the door of the locker room.

He froze at the image in front of him and had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Cormac McLaggen's naked body was moulded to the soft, curvaceous form of Romilda Vane, his impressive cock - which Harry and Draco had _both_ snuck looks at when they thought the other wasn't looking - buried deep within the moaning witch. But to make matters even more interesting, a third body - clothed but the cloth clinging to her curves from the pouring water around them - was standing between them, her red hair plastered to her freckled skin as her lips leaned in to take Romilda's dusky nipple into her mouth.

Draco's jaw dropped.

Deciding that he had seen entirely too much female flesh for one lifetime, Draco tried to leave but found himself staring at Cormac's back. He sucked in a breath as he watched the Adonis's arse flex and relax, the muscles constricting and relaxing with every thrust he made into Romilda's body. Draco felt himself getting hard at the sight of the gorgeous man, and he briefly allowed himself a moment of fantasy as he replaced Romilda's form with his own and Ginny's with Harry's.

Harry.

The thought of his boyfriend waiting for him was the only thing stopping him from staying there. Grabbing his cloak from the locker, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, the door swinging loudly and his footsteps echoing off the stone walls as he hurried back towards his waiting lover. When he rounded a corner to the entry way, he saw Harry leaning against the wall, his arms crossed loosely and his stance casual.

Draco had to swallow the odd feeling of excitement whenever he saw Harry standing like that. There was something rebellious to it - like Harry did it just to prove to others that he didn't give a shit what they thought - but Draco knew it came naturally to Harry. The man exuded confidence - not like Draco, whose confidence tended to manifest itself in arrogance - but a comfort about himself that Draco had only seen after the war was over and Harry was finally allowed a moment's peace from the darkness that had been plaguing his life for the previous 17 years.

"There you are," Harry said, smiling slightly as Draco approached him. "You ready?"

"No," Draco said, his voice coming out husky as the image of Cormac's undulating body wrapped itself around his mind and threw his body into a quiver of sexual anticipation.

"No?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing. "Why? Did Ginny say something? Do we have to go back?"

Unable to answer such silly questions in his current state, Draco grabbed his boyfriend's collar and pulled him to him in a hot, searing kiss. Harry groaned slightly, surprised by his lover's enthusiasm as Draco was never one for overtly-public displays of affection. But soon he had his hands running through Draco's hair as Draco's hands ran down Harry's chest to cup his growing erection.

"Where is the closest private enclosure?" Draco breathed in Harry's ear as he massaged Harry's cock through his trousers.

Harry panted.

"I...um...under the stands, I think," he managed to choke out before catching Draco's lips once more, unsure why his lover was suddenly so affectionate but not questioning it for fear that it would go away as quickly as it appeared.

Draco pulled away and grabbed Harry's hand, leading him out into the pouring rain and quickly ducking under the metal structure that held seating for the stadium. Water dripped on the cold ground beneath their feet but it was dry in most places and that was all that mattered as the blond attacked Harry's lips again, nipping hard at the Boy-Who-Conquered's lower lip as he ran his hands along the hem of Harry's t-shirt.

"Dr...Draco..." Harry stuttered as Draco's fingers skimmed his skin, placing cool palms against his warm chest.

"Yes?" Draco all but purred, grinning slightly as Harry groaned.

"Not that I'm complaining..." he started, sucking in a breath as he watched his lover start to sink to his knees. "But what brought this about?"

Draco's silver eyes danced with mischief.

"Oh," he said evasively. "I suddenly had the urge to suck you off in a place where your ex-girlfriend was only a few feet away. Nothing too special."

Harry gasped as Draco unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his cock.

Draco wrapped his lips around Harry's already-straining member, the tip leaking its salty pre-cum that he couldn't resist swiping clean with his tongue. Harry's hips bucked at the unexpected sensation, moaning as his lover hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard.

"Fuck Draco, stop teasing me," he groaned when Draco still hadn't touched him, his mouth resisting the urge to sink lower.

The blonde smirked up at him, before lowering an inch, knowing exactly what to do and how to do it well. As in all aspects of life, when a Malfoy set out to do something, he made sure he was better than everyone else. In this case, servicing one's lover became almost an art form, and he knew every subtle sign to say that his was thoroughly enjoying himself.

The bespectacled man's head dropped back, his fingers gripping the silky blond strands in front of him, urging Draco lower still. Draco all too willingly complied, his hands coming up to grip Harry's length as he began his pumping, teasing torture.

Harry became so lost to the feel of lips and hands and tongue on him that he completely forgot they were in a very public place. Draco, however, was very aware of their precarious position and relished the potential danger that getting caught posed. It was an erotic thrill to know anyone could round the corner and find them mid-coitus.

Draco sucked as he pulled back and plunged quickly down with each thrust of Harry's hips, his hands reaching between the other man's legs to cup his balls, earning him another satisfied moan.

"You have..." Harry panted, "No idea... how good..."

Draco smirked at Harry's inability to form a coherent sentence and hummed happily against the throbbing cock in his mouth. The Boy-Who-Conquered shuddered violently at the new sensation and felt his lover's fingers dip further between his legs, finding the tight ring of muscle there and gently massaging it with his forefinger.

Draco pulled back, running his tongue up and down the length of the glistening, pulsing cock he loved to worship, staring up at Harry as the man shuddered and gripped on to anything that would hold him upright.

"Are you going to cum for me, baby?" Draco asked deeply, his tongue tracing circles around the heart shaped head as Harry panted, a fine sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Want to...want to..." he gasped, throwing his head back as the muscles in his neck strained.

"Want to what?" Draco asked, blowing gently as Harry thrust his hips into the cool air.

"...cum inside you," the black-haired Seeker finally gasped out, tugging Draco's hair until the pureblood was forced to stand.

Harry pulled Draco to him desperately, crashing their lips together violently as his hands flew to his belt and roughly shoved down his perfectly pressed pants. Draco didn't mind, however. He was equally as desperate to feel the aching, throbbing cock rubbing against his own.

This was what he loved best about Harry: the lack of foreplay and the almost desperate need to be together that never seemed to fade. They barely had to do anything to each other to be hard enough to want pound the other down to nothing. Maybe it was a result of so many years of contention – maybe they were just that comfortable around each other – but all Draco cared about was that when Harry wanted him, he wanted him now, and he was always happy to comply.

Once freed of his pants, Harry roughly pulled back from his lover, almost shoving him face first in to the metal frame behind him. Draco stepped out of his pants and spread his legs, looking over his shoulder as Harry adjusted his glasses, located his wand, and muttered several well-learnt charms that had them both able and prepared for rough, public sex.

They smiled at each other as Harry took another step toward him, his hands coming back to run under his pressed shirt, all the way down to his buttocks where he took a moment to worship the hard flesh beneath his palms.

"Who's teasing now?" he asked, a moment before he felt Harry's finger dip further down.

He gasped and writhed as one pumping finger became two, scissoring inside of him, urging the muscles to relax and give. Harry's mouth was hot against his neck, his whispered words erotic and encouraging, sending Draco into a dizzying erotic haze. He could feel his lover's cock, hard and throbbing against his thigh and pushed back into him, silently asking for more.

Pulling back, Harry rested one hand on Draco's lower back, spreading his cheeks and guiding his almost aching member to where his fingers had previously been tormenting him. The blond moaned and dropped his head back to rest his cheek against Harry's, panting as the large phallus entered him slowly.

"We shouldn't be doing this here," Harry moaned when he had sunk to the hilt, holding still as the tight muscles clenched around him painfully.

"Don't you dare stop now," Draco growled, panting and turning his head to kiss his lover once more.

"I don't think I could if I wanted to," Harry gasped when he pulled his head away, wrapping his arms around Draco's taut waist and slowly pulling his hips back.

Draco moaned and closed his eyes, shuddering when Harry began a slow rhythm, thrusting high and hard in to him. With each thrust he gained momentum, his fingers splaying down the blonde's stomach until he found his bouncing cock, clumsily taking him in hand and pumping to the game of push and pull.

It was Draco's turn to become an incoherent mess, feeling his balls tighten with each new touch. Harry was working his lips up and down his neck, his teeth biting gently down on his ear when he hit Draco's sweet spot. Having found the right angle, he began thrusting in to the pureblood with gusto - making them both weak-kneed and gasping - until Draco felt his balls begin to tighten and he cried out as his release coated Harry's hand and his stomach.

"So close," Harry whimpered in his ear, pushing through the clenching muscles around his cock, finding all new heights as he forgot about being gentle and just went for it. Draco almost sagged as Harry bore down on him, his teeth clamping on his still clothed shoulder as he came almost violently in his lover's body.

It was several minutes later when Draco found the strength to open his eyes, biting his lips when Harry finally pulled out. He heard his long-time lover rustling around behind him before the sounds of several other well-known charms were cast and they were finally clean and clothed again.

The arrogant Malfoy spun around and wrapped one calloused palm around Harry's neck, pulling him in for a brief, passionate kiss that left no doubt that he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Harry was the first to pull back, forced to adjust his glasses once again before a slow, almost Malfoy-like smirk crossed his face.

"Do you think anyone heard us?" he asked, gripping Draco's hand in a rare show of public affection and dragging him back to the main corridors, hoping to get home for that shower.

"Oh, I think they were a little distracted," Draco replied cryptically, thinking about Cormac's flexing arse cheeks and feeling another jolt of arousal course through him.

Maybe he would join Harry in that shower.

"What do you mean? Is Cormac regaling them with tales of that time he attempted the Wronski Feint but hit a bird mid-flight?" Harry joked.

"More like showing the girls just what that huge cock of his can actually do," Draco muttered wryly. He had to stop when Harry came to a complete halt beside him.

"You mean...?" he asked wide-eyed, his head spinning back toward the changing rooms as if he would catch sight of the trio.

"But you didn't hear it from me," Draco warned, smiling when Harry flushed a deep red.

They continued to walk in silence for a moment before Harry stopped again, a thought occurring to him.

"You know, I should be jealous."

"Why?" Draco asked warily.

"You getting so worked up over McLaggen's arse," Harry huffed.

"Yes, but it was my arse you were just fucking," Draco pointed out, tugging his hand once again, even more eager for that shower at the many mentions of the Keeper's fine derrière.

Harry looked at him again, his eyes sweeping him from head to toe lazily.

"I wonder if Ginny will give us a few of those pictures early."

"I don't think Weaslette would be adverse to a little blackmail. And if not her, then Romilda will surely give up a few candid shots for our private viewing," Draco mused, his mind already churning through various contacts that would love to get hold of evidence of the scene he had witnessed earlier. Ginny wouldn't dare risk her reputation.

"I love it when you go all Slytherin on me," Harry said with a sigh as they stepped in to the blistering wind, preparing to apparate home.

"You love me, period," Draco grinned.

"Who am I to deny the truth?" Harry shrugged. Moments later they left the stadium for the much more comfortable, hot shower waiting for them at home.

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_Thanks for reading! Leave us love!_


	4. Chapter 4: Sexy at Any Age I

_**Author's Note:** So, we want to apologize for the lack of updates we've had in the past month or so. It's been a bit of a crazy time for us in the REAL WORLD [ugh, we say, to REAL LIFE] but we fully intend to continue working on this as well as the LAST [YES, people, the absolute LAST] installment of our Nargles series._

_Also, this is (obviously) a rare-pair, so if it's not your thing, don't worry, just skip it. If you're adventurous [as we were in the writing of it] read it and let us know what you think!  
_

_Many thanks to our uber-patient beta _diamond-helen_. You're awesome, chica!  
_

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Chapter Four – Sexy at Any Age – Part I

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_Lucius and Luna

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Lucius Malfoy brushed an errant strand of blond hair from his face, blinking his cool silver eyes at the camera that sat ten feet in front of him. A soft breeze from the whirling fan caught the long tresses, and as he dipped his head back to accommodate the breeze, he heard the camera click several times in rapid succession.

"Alright, Lucius, now if you could just bend your left knee…that's it." The camera clicked several more times. "Now look at me…I want you to seduce the camera…a little darker…I want to feel like you're searing my soul with your eyes…"

Lucius willed himself to do as the demanding redhead commanded, though he couldn't help the tiny smirk that graced his thin lips.

"If I didn't know better, Miss Weasley, I would think you wanted me to seduce _you_."

Ginny gave a very unladylike snort from behind the camera.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. You interest me about as much as a bag of hippogriff dung," came the sharp reply.

Lucius held back his rather snide retort involving the youngest Weasley's penchant for Quidditch players and did as she told him, leaning back arrogantly against the black silk chaise and giving everything he had as he struck a casual yet fiery pose. He was certain from the faint blush appearing on Ginny's face that had the camera been combustible, the inanimate object would have exploded from the heat he was sending it. A few more clicks and Ginny reappeared, glancing at him as she went about changing the film in the camera.

"Alright, Lucius, I'm through with you. Sirius, you have ten minutes and then I'll do you," she said.

The raven-haired pureblood smirked from where he was sitting with Remus and Hermione.

"You will, will you, Ginger?" he said seductively.

"Save the charm for your fan club, Black. You're old enough to be my father," she said.

"Oh…that's cold, Weasley."

She sent him a brilliant smile to prove that she was joking and Lucius felt something tug at his heart. Though his change of allegiance during the war had earned him a modicum of respect from the tight-knit Order of the Phoenix – not to mention his son's subsequent relationship with their Golden Boy, Harry Potter, – Lucius was still very much an outsider looking in on the group of friends. Even Narcissa's well-meaning efforts to reunite with Sirius upon his return from the Veil hadn't quite given Lucius the status that he used to enjoy in society. Despite Hermione's kind words and compassion when Narcissa passed away two years earlier, Lucius knew that he would never be accepted to the full extent unless drastic measures were taken. Too much bad blood had passed between them.

"Malfoy," Sirius said with a nod as Lucius approached him at the coffee cart, having donned his emerald-green silk robe, "Not too bad, this," he added, stirring his coffee absently.

"I've been through worse things," Lucius replied, immediately regretting it as he saw Sirius's eyes flicker over him with a mild pity. Lucius had received more than his share of pity in the years following the war, especially after Draco's relationship with Harry had revealed some less-than-savoury stories involving the Malfoys' tenure under Lord Voldemort's iron fist.

"I daresay you have," was all Sirius replied with.

Lucius took a sip of his own coffee as his eyes swept over to where Remus and Hermione were sitting, snuggled comfortably together on the couch in the corner. Once again he felt a strange tug at his heart as he watched the man thread his fingers lovingly through the infuriatingly-intelligent woman's hair, leaning in and kissing his wife tenderly as she blushed prettily.

Lucius envied Remus his happiness. Not necessarily because he wanted Hermione – though the silly little swot had grown into quite the curvaceous young witch – but because he wanted that which Remus had: the love of a good woman. Narcissa's death had wounded Lucius far more than he cared to admit, never expecting that the fringe group of Death Eaters that had escaped persecution would turn on his own family, sending his wife a cursed set of combs that killed her as soon as she touched them. Even his estrangement from his son had hurt him, but it was specifically the fact that he had to go back to the empty Malfoy Manor every night and sleep in that large, cold bed by himself that had him gazing wistfully at the happy couple in the corner.

"She's a pretty thing, isn't she?" Sirius commented, taking a sip of his own cup as his eyes followed Lucius's. "I suppose I'm glad Remus got to her first, because Lord knows I was battling my own demons about going for that little slice."

Lucius glanced at the lascivious man.

"Does Remus know you talk about his wife like that?" he asked mildly.

Sirius chuckled.

"All the time. I do it in their presence. Remus usually chuckles but there are times when I've caught 'Mione giving me the once over. Bloody shame…married so young."

"Jealous, Black?"

Sirius let out the bark of a laugh that Lucius had to admit he found rather annoying.

"Not in the slightest. Plus, Harry would have my balls for breakfast if I looked at her sideways. He's gotten quite protective of his little group. Draco too, come to think of it." Looking at Lucius, he cleared his throat. "Um…Draco says 'hi,' by the way."

Lucius nodded, but didn't say anything else.

"Alright, Sirius," Ginny said, her voice carrying a twinge of frustration as she re-entered the studio, a tall, peculiar-looking blonde witch following her closely, notepad in hand, a quill tucked haphazardly into her long, wild hair. "I'm almost ready for you. Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the chaise?"

Sirius smirked at Lucius.

"I suppose it's time for my close-up," he said, putting his empty cup down and shrugging out of his black silk robe as he walked unabashedly to the chaise.

Lucius's eyes were fixed on the intriguing witch, who was staring quite unashamedly at Sirius's lower body. Arching an eyebrow, he watched as she jotted down a couple of notes in her pad, whispering something to Ginny. The redhead seemed to be holding back a long-suffering sigh, whispering something back to the woman before turning her attention to the man in front of her.

"Legs up on the…for the love of Merlin, Sirius, what the hell?" she shouted.

"What?" he asked in a tone that even Lucius knew was a little too innocent.

"You…what…are those _bite marks_?"

Lucius watched as both Remus and Hermione chuckled in the corner, undoubtedly used to Sirius's badges of honour from his many trysts.

"Are they?" the man said mildly, to which Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Sirius Black, I _told_ you not to…"

"Easy, love. I can fix it," Sirius said mildly, and with a wave of his wand, Lucius watched as he glamoured whatever marks were on his body.

"I bloody _told_ you not to do anything…" Ginny grumbled as she looked into the lens of her camera, setting up some test shots.

"Yes I know, but her name was Ana and she was Russian and really, Ginger, I can't say 'no' to a beautiful Russian dominatrix."

Sighing and turning back to the coffee pot, Lucius wondered how any woman could possibly fall for Sirius's bullshit charm. It seemed so insincere and slightly patronizing to him.

"Mr. Malfoy?" a matter-of-fact voice said, more of a statement than a question, behind him and Lucius turned to see the bizarre witch standing in front of him. Letting his eyes skim over her, he found himself amused – and admittedly, slightly aroused – by the unusual outfit she was wearing. While most young witches conformed to the styles of _Witch Weekly_, the young woman in front of him seemed to be going out of her way to piss off the fashion police. Her long, curved body was clad in a crazy yellow and orange print tunic, several sizes too big, a pair of blue and grey plaid leggings, and combat boots. Around her neck was an extraordinary necklace that seemed to be made entirely of butterbeer tops.

'_Fascinating,'_ Lucius thought to himself, _'Utterly fascinating.'_

"It's a common misconception, Mr. Malfoy, but my face is actually a good foot above where your eyes are fixed," the young woman said in that same, matter-of-fact tone that gave Lucius a start. It was true he had been fixed on her breasts, a little small and less perky than his normal taste, but he had never been called on it before.

"I…er…yes. Sorry, Miss…?"

"Lovegood. Luna Lovegood," she replied, proffering her hand to him. "I'm writing the article for the three of you."

"Oh," he said, his brow furrowing. "I was under the impression that a Miss Vane would be writing the article."

"Yes, so were we all. But the next photo shoot is taking place in Romania and the only way Romilda could get there on time was to go early today. So you're going to have to make due (do) with me."

Lucius smiled winningly.

"I don't think I'll have a problem with that, Miss Lovegood," he said silkily.

"I should think not. These inane articles write themselves anyway," she said, her focus already straying to the room around her.

Lucius arched his eyebrow again. Most women fell in a dead faint at his feet when he employed the dark, seductive Malfoy charm. This woman was clearly someone to be reckoned with.

"Am I to understand that you're not a fan of this type of journalism, Miss Lovegood?" he asked.

"Call me Luna, please, I don't conform to the arcane tradition of titles," she said airily, turning back to him, her protuberant blue eyes fixed on him. "And in answer to your question, I have no problems with the type of writing they require here at _Playwitch_. I write freelance, so I go where the work takes me. But I was so hoping to do some research on an article I'm working on about the rampant _kimmelroach_ migration and this is putting me behind schedule."

Lucius frowned, having never heard of such beasts.

"I'm sorry…the _what_ migration?"

Luna opened her mouth to give what Lucius assumed was a well practiced explanation, when activity from behind them interrupted.

"Sweet Merlin's poorly executed comb-over Sirius! Will you cut the theatrics and just get on with it!" Ginny shouted, pulling her flaming head away from the camera lens, her hands going to her hips in a gesture they had all seen from her mother at one stage or another. Remus was having hysterics in the corner, while Hermione watched on with quiet disapproval.

Lucius's attention was drawn back to the unique blonde when she let out a frustrated huff, grabbed his hand and proceeded to drag him toward the back door of the studio. He was so shocked at being manhandled for the first time in his life that he followed her wordlessly into a short hallway where a series of closed doors greeted them.

"Right, this will do," Luna said, stopping in front of the first door on the right, pushing it open and practically shoving the older man inside.

"But this is a..." Lucius started to protest, but Luna had already pushed in beside him and closed the door. He heard her rustling in the dark before she lit the tip of her wand.

They were in a broom cupboard.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked, staring down at her, noticing the faint line of freckles on the naked skin of her face. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen a woman without make-up. Narcissa wouldn't have been caught dead at the breakfast table without at least a swipe of lipstick to decorate her features.

"Yes, it is," Luna replied, re-shuffling her notebook before staring up at him with clear blue eyes. "Now, Romilda tells me you've done a Playwitch spread before, how does it feel coming back?"

Lucius took a step back, leaning against a bare patch of the stark walls, letting an easy, seductive smile spread across his face.

"I don't remember a lot of last time, it was the 70's after all," he said with a light chuckle, expecting her to laugh along. He was disappointed when all she did was write down his response.

"Do you pose naked often?" she asked, not lifting her head.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you seemed rather comfortable in front of the camera. I was just wondering if you did it often," she replied, pen poised.

Lucius took a breath and hesitated before answering.

"No, no I don't pose nude often," then, "you aren't going to add that in, are you?"

"Oh no, this is just for curiosity's sake," she replied, her face remaining neutral as she looked up with a smile.

He nodded, still slightly confused and frustrated by the enigma of a witch in front of him.

"So what questions are you supposed to be asking me?"

"The usual drivel, favourite colour, ultimate date, perfect afternoon, hidden talent," she rattled off, waving her hand as if they were unimportant.

Lucius waited for her to ask the question so he could answer it, but the woman just stared up at him with a pleasant, unassuming smile.

"Green, a home cooked meal, a book in front of the fire and no," he replied after a moment, waiting for her to write the responses down. She just continued to stare at him.

"Miss Lovegood?" he prompted when she still stood staring up at him, her face fixed in a smile that was doing funny things to him.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?" she asked after a moment or two.

"Are you going to write that down?" he asked.

"No, I'll remember it," she replied, blinking her large eyes up at him. He was beginning to wonder if she was the victim of an unfortunate potions accident. He had seen patients in St Mungo's act more normal.

"Is that all then?"

"Well..." she started, licking her lips enticingly, before plunging forward, "Did you find yourself attracted to the woman who interviewed you last time?"

"Ah...I believe it was Bildung Bloomsbury who interviewed me last time," he replied, frowning in confusion.

"Oh," she replied, looking down at her notebook with a frown of her own.

"Why?" he asked, wondering if he truly wanted the answer. The truth was he was prolonging the interview as long as possible, intrigued by the unusual and highly unprofessional interview and more importantly the interviewer.

"Because you have been staring at me like I am something you want to eat since we first met. I was wondering if you slept with your first interviewer as well," she stated bluntly.

Lucius felt his eyebrows raise high into his hairline, he was sure his expression was that of shock.

"As well?" he managed to choke out.

"Of course. You want to have sex with me," she stated, leaving no doubt in her rather presumptuous but not altogether incorrect assertion.

Lucius opened and closed his mouth to answer, but was stopped when her petite hands dropped the notebook to the floor, her fingers reaching for the hem of her loud dress, drawing it up her thighs and over her head before he could form his next coherent thought.

He was used to women throwing themselves at him; it was something that hadn't changed since school and ever throughout his marriage. However, he normally had at least some notion it was going to happen - a wink here, a brush there, a well-placed hand or a suggestive whisper - but with Luna Lovegood there had been nothing.

Her boots clunked to the floor and her bright stockings followed. He found himself staring down at the petite, but well formed naked body of a woman who had to be younger than his own son. That didn't seem to bother him, however, as his next thought came to his lips.

"You don't wear underwear?"

Smooth. Very smooth.

"No, do you?" she asked, a wicked grin crossing her features as she took a step forward and reached for him.

With a jolt he realized she was teasing him and he immediately knew he had lost the upper hand. She hands went to the belt of his robe, but she didn't pull it open, instead she stood on the tips of her toes, her face less than an inch from his.

"Aren't you going to kiss me?" she asked, and her sweet, apple-scented breath washed over him, making him close his eyes as his hands wrapped around her waist, the action almost involuntary.

"Aren't you going to say please?" he found himself asking, his voice having dropped a few octaves as his body responded to her close proximity.

He felt her smile against his lips, not quite touching him, but close enough that the smallest movement was noticeable without having to look down.

"Please," she breathed.

Lucius gave a short tug on her waist, her body moulding completely to his now as he slammed his lips down on hers earning a short gasp of pleasure. She tasted as she smelled and her pert lips moved against his with such earnest enthusiasm that he found himself enjoying the contact more than he had in years. Kissing to him was normally a preliminary action to a good, old-fashioned shag, but with Luna the action took on a much more satisfying purpose.

She moaned approving noises from the back of her throat, her arms slipping inside the edges of his robe, making the muscles in his stomach jerk as she explored him. Her fingertips were so light against his body that he thought she might be hesitant to touch him – a thought that had him rethinking the intelligence of shagging a much-younger witch in the broom cupboard of the _Playwitch_ magazine studios. When she bit his lip, however, and her flattened palms slid teasingly over his nipples, he got the distinct impression that – despite her age – the woman knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him.

"We've got to make this quick," she whispered against his lips as he found himself getting lost in the delicious softness of her body. "Ginny'll be looking for you to finish the group shot."

He groaned, her slow, surprising seduction having turned his body into one sensitive nerve ending.

"I don't think you're going to have to worry about it being quick, love," he breathed. "But quick doesn't necessarily mean good."

She pulled away slightly, and Lucius felt his cock twitch when he saw the hint of a naughty smile on her face.

"Why don't you let _me_ worry about it being _good_, Mr. Malfoy," she teased, licking her lips as her eyes trailed down his body and back up to the molten steel of his eyes. He shivered involuntarily at the sensual way the word 'mister' left her lips.

He watched her as she looked at him, seemingly sizing him up. He took the opportunity to evaluate her – though he knew in his heart and other decidedly less-complicated places that she was sexy as all hell. Though he still maintained that her body type was not that of the witches he usually found himself attracted to, he had to admit that there was something deeply intriguing about her supple, smooth curves, dusky nipples, and wild hair. She was pear shaped – child-bearing hips, he found himself thinking – and in an instant he wondered what it would be like to have this creature in his bed for a period of time longer than a few stolen minutes in a broom cupboard.

Her eyes flicked back up to his, and any thought other than being buried inside her – and quickly – left his mind.

"Lean against the wall, widen your stance, and bend your knees," she demanded in a tone that almost screamed business had it not been for the mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes and soft, tender hands wrapping around his neck.

For the first time in his life, Lucius said nothing and did exactly what he was told.

Smirking, the blonde nymph lifted her leg, bending it as she extended it up and settled it on his shoulder. His eyes widened as he felt his cock brush against the heat of her now-exposed core, the very idea that she could bend like _that_ making his body ache even more.

"Sweet Morgana," he whispered as she smirked at him, her hands playing with the strands of blond hair falling over his shoulders.

Bending the leg that was still on the ground, she dropped her hand to his length and guided him inside her. They both gasped and Lucius was extremely grateful for the wall behind him as he let his head fall back as her tight, wet heat enveloped him like an agonizingly tantalizing glove.

"Oh Merlin…" Luna moaned, letting her head tip back as she started to move her hips against his.

Hooking his arm around her lower back, Lucius used the wall as leverage and moved with her, undulating his hips as his other hand trailed down the centre of her body, revelling in the smooth, responsive skin. Licking his lips, he bent down, catching one of her mouth-watering nipples and circling his tongue slowly around it, involuntarily thrusting harder when she moaned his name – his first name – and brought a hand to his head to hold him there.

"For the love of nargles…don't stop…" she moaned, arching her body even more as he moved to the neglected breast. Lucius had no idea – nor did he really care – what on earth these _nargles_ were but as he felt her body slowly tightening, he lost all coherent thought and became a primitive, thrusting beast.

Lucius had never lost his cool during sex before. Before marrying Narcissa he had developed a reputation as being one of the best shags at Hogwarts and within the elite social circles he frequented afterwards. He had always been strong, demanding, and his stamina was matched by very few. But in those moments, wrapped in the cocoon of heat and sensuality exuded by this chit of a girl, all those carefully-honed tools of sexual prowess flew out the narrow, dirty window that sat in the corner. He was a lustful, primal animal who seemed to fit perfectly into the tight sheath he was now rutting passionately within.

She cried out when he hit an angle that he knew had most women's knees buckling, and his grip around her waist tightened as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her leg still extended on his shoulder as her upper body pressed against his. Their movements were restricted by their position but the small, gentle rocking seemed to do far more damage to their delicate self-control than anything else.

Catching her lips, Lucius lifted her into his arms, her other leg wrapping tightly around his calf, and spun them around. He pressed her against the wall, falling into her and she cried out, biting his bottom lip hard as she came. Lucius, turned on by the sudden pain of her teeth and her nails clawing down his back, grunted as he thrust his hips against her, his body tensing as he jerked, cumming hard within the gripping core that he suddenly realized he never wanted to leave.

Breathing hard, they held each other for a moment before he looked into her eyes. He was taken by just how _blue_ they were. They were large and almond-shaped and he was suddenly taken with just how _young_, how _innocent_, and yet how utterly _enchanting_ she was. He was certain he had never met a woman like her, and he was even more certain that he would never meet a woman like her again.

Pulling back slightly to allow her room to stand, she dropped her leg from his shoulder, though her arms stayed loosely around his neck. Smiling slightly, she bit her lip, running a finger over his cheek and swiping his lower lip before leaning in and laving her bite mark with her tongue.

Lucius's body shuddered pleasantly at the intimacy of such an act.

"My flat is three streets over," she whispered against his lips. "I'll be ready at 7."

He blinked.

"What?" he asked, once again not fully comprehending.

She pulled back, smiling ingenuously before walking over to her clothes.

"For our date," she said matter-of-factly.

Lucius blinked.

"Our date?"

"Oh yes," she said, pulling her tights on with a smile before grabbing her tunic. "You intend to take me out to dinner, don't you? I mean, after a shag like that, how could you refuse the opportunity to do it again?"

She pulled on the garishly-coloured shirt before slipping into her boots and grabbing her quill and notebook. Turning to him, she shot him a dazzling smile and a wink.

"I might even let you be on top," she said devilishly before flouncing out the door.

Lucius had just enough wherewithal to pull his robe around his body as he chased after her.

"I don't know where…" he started but she turned back to him and smiled as she continued walking backwards.

"Ginny has the address. Just say I told you we needed to finish up the article," she interrupted.

"But the other…"

"I know where they live. I'll interview them tomorrow. Now I really must be going, Mr. Malfoy, for, you see, I have a date at 7 with a rather attractive older man and there's much to do before then."

Lucius watched, dumbstruck, as she rounded the corner out of sight.

"Lucius!" Ginny's demanding voice sounded behind him, and he turned to see her glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

"Yes?" he replied, a bemused smile starting to spread on his face.

"We're ready for you, _maestro_," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms.

"Oh, right. Er…you couldn't give me a moment, could you?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"Just…need to use the loo."

She rolled her eyes.

"Now is not the time for a wank, Mr. Malfoy."

"I hardly need one, _Miss_ Weasley," he replied, and she cocked her eyebrow when she saw the meaning in his eyes.

Then she sighed.

"Go and clean up. I'll have her address waiting for you when you come back in. But for the love of Merlin, hurry up!" she huffed, and Lucius smirked slightly when he caught her mumbling, "Shagging the subject was not part of her job description."

"I suppose she considered it a perk," he called out as the redhead walked back into the studio.

"Or a pitfall," came the smart remark, but Ginny turned back and shot him that dazzling smile that he had seen her give Sirius earlier and with his heart lightened and a spring in his step, Lucius walked to the bathroom, thinking that with a new-found respect from the youngest Weasley and a beautiful, intriguing witch on his arm, his luck definitely seemed to be turning.

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_Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!_


	5. Chapter 5: Sexy at Any Age II

_**Authors Note:** As many of you have probably figured out, that big, ugly, time eating monster we like to call real life managed to catch up with us. Since our last update the Golden Duo have taken a tour of Australia's east coast and some of this was even written whilst on location. With that said, we cannot apologize enough for our extended absence, and hope you find it within in you to return to us to read the next installment of Playwitch. Much thanks goes to _Darksaber3434_ for the uber quick beta read, it was much appreciated._

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**Chapter Five – Sexy at Any Age – Part II**

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_Sirius, Hermione and Remus_

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"Ginny said they disappeared into a broom cupboard."

"A broom cupboard?"

"Clearly a romantic, that Malfoy."

"I hardly think it was his idea, Sirius."

"I hardly think he was _complaining_, though, kitten."

Sirius sent the bookworm a knowing smirk, taking a sip of the third glass of Firewhisky that dangled in the ornate crystal glass from his tattooed hand. Hermione sat across from him, legs tucked under her body, a similar glass in her petite grip as she leaned comfortably against her husband. Remus's long arm was slung protectively around her frame, his own Firewhisky sitting on the table next to the couch.

The street lamps of Grimmauld Place were already burning brightly by the time the three of them had all trooped back through the door, weary from the day at the Playwitch studios. The house was dark and the light of the waxing moon filtered through the drapes as they had wordlessly entered the library, Hermione giving an easy wave to the fireplace.

Neither man paid much attention as a fire sprang to life from the ashes.

Sirius had watched as his best friend and his best friend's wife flopped simultaneously onto the couch, rolling his eyes as Remus's arm immediately swooped around Hermione's body and pulled her close to him. Though ecstatic that his quiet, unassuming friend had found such a deep love in a wonderful woman, Sirius had always found it almost depressing how happy they were sometimes.

Not that he himself would have _ever _wanted to enter into such a committed relationship.

Now sitting with them, however, Sirius found that he always fell into an easy, comfortable conversation, which was more than he could say about anyone else he happened to live with. Life with Harry and Draco was always somewhat operatic, consisting of emotional ups and downs that could only really come from a couple from drastically different backgrounds.

And Ron and Tonks…well, Sirius felt it best to know as little as possible about the goings on between those two.

Hermione and Remus, in spite of their sometimes-nauseating public displays of affection, were exactly what Sirius needed in friends. Witty, intelligent, and tolerant of his admittedly-immature behaviour, the two could sit with him through anything.

Including a night of heavy drinking and gossip.

"I would have never thought Lucius and Luna would be good together, but it _does_ make a weird sort of sense," Hermione said, her words slurring slightly as she took another sip of her potent beverage. "After all, they're both very…blonde."

Sirius barked a laugh.

"Blonde?" he asked.

"Yeah. The hair colour. Very…yellow."

"Darling, I really don't think the overlying magnetism between the two stemmed from a similar hair colour," Remus said with a soft chuckle, kissing Hermione affectionately on the forehead. "They _are_ two exceptionally intelligent human beings, and Luna is just…er…_peculiar_ enough to keep Lucius interested. I had always thought him a bit jaded."

"I was impressed he agreed to get his kit off for Ginger, to be honest," Sirius said, knocking back another glass of Firewhisky and topping up with a flick of his wand. "After all, he is a bit of a poncy ass."

"So says the man who had to be _dragged_ from the house this morning," Hermione replied, flicking her own wand to top up her glass.

"Well…it was early. Who on earth wakes up at 9 o'clock in the morning?"

"Most of the world, Pads," Remus replied, shaking his head with a smile.

"Yeah, well, I don't see the point. Nothing good happens before sunset and if you wake up too early you'll be too tired to have any fun."

"You got to take your clothes off in front of a camera today, Sirius. During _daylight_ hours. And you looked like you were having a blast," Hermione argued.

"You would think that posing nude for a camera would be easy," Sirius stated. "But in reality, kitten, you have no idea how hard it actually is."

Hermione scoffed.

"Hard? If by hard, you mean lazing on a couch flexing your muscles and looking gorgeous, then yes, Sirius, I have complete sympathy for just _difficult_ your life is."

Sirius cocked an eyebrow.

"Gorgeous, you say?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Of course you'd pick up on _that_ part of the statement."

"Honestly, kitten, it takes a lot of effort to stand there naked for long periods of time. I don't think _you_ could last two _minutes_, let alone two hours."

Remus, whose head had been lolling against the back of the couch, looked up at his best friend.

"Pads…" he said warningly, noting the tension in his wife's body.

"No, seriously. The woman takes issue with having her picture taken fully clothed at a family dinner, let alone fully disrobed in all her naked glory. Not that I have a problem with that, kitten," Sirius added with a lecherous wink.

"So you think I can't do it?" Hermione asked, pulling herself out of her husband's arms and sitting on the edge of the couch, her eyes focused on the sprawled animagus.

"Shall I get my camera?" Sirius asked, a coy grin playing on his face.

"No, no need," Hermione stated. "After all, I don't think it's the pictures you think I have a problem with. You think I have a problem with my own naked body, which is complete bollocks." She turned to Remus, who had been looking between the two in amusement. "Isn't that right, darling?"

Remus patted her thigh.

"You're a right regular nudist, honey," he said placating.

Hermione shot Sirius a triumphant grin.

"See? Not a problem in the world with taking my clothes off, thank you very much."

Sirius's easy grin broadened.

"Prove it."

The two looked at each other unblinkingly, challenge clear in their defiant faces. Slowly, Hermione stood, swaying slightly as she tried to keep her balance. Eyes still locked on Sirius's face, she gripped the hem of her t-shirt and tugged it over her head with purpose. It fell to the floor, revealing her slim frame and apple-printed bra to the two men in the room.

Sirius grinned at his best friend.

"An apple a day, eh, Moony?" he teased.

"Just wait til you see her knickers," was Remus's easy reply.

"Matching?" Sirius asked, his eyes now focused on the witch who was struggling out of her pants.

"Always," Remus replied, admiring the same drunken display.

Hermione undid the clasp of her jeans, swaying a little as her head swum and a drunken little giggle escaped her. She began to swish her hips gently from side to side, regaining her equilibrium enough to cast a broad wink at her husband before returning her attention to his riveted best friend.

Her fingers teased along her stomach, her palms cupping her hips as she slowly revealed the tiny scrap of apple-printed fabric. Sirius watched the play of her fingers on her smooth, tanned flesh and caught her biting her lip as she took note of where his attention was focused.

She shimmied a little as she reached the chair he sat in, slowly lowering the denim down her thighs and bending at the waist to push them the rest of the way down, giving the animagus ample view down her cleavage and the werewolf her arse.

"Oh dear Merlin…" Sirius murmured as he watched, fixated, as the bushy-haired witch encountered some minor problems figuring out how to remove her jeans without falling face-first into Sirius's lap, the result of which had Sirius's eyes glued to the bounce of her full, pert breasts.

"Moony, you are a lucky bastard," Sirius said, sparing a glance up at his best friend and finding the werewolf gazing hungrily at his wife's apple-covered bottom.

"Don't I know it," Remus replied, licking his lips involuntarily as Hermione finally wiggled out of her jeans and kicked them away unceremoniously before slowly standing up again. Sirius could see the effects of her firewhisky consumption as her eyes lost focus for a second before she looked back at him with a toothy grin.

"Who says I can't get my kit off in front of people?" she said triumphantly, showing off some provocative poses that Sirius was impressed she could muster in her inebriated state.

"Now now, darling," Remus growled softly, his eyes starting to glow amber as he watched his wife. "It hardly seems fair. You got to see us without _any_ clothing…"

Both Sirius and Hermione looked at the werewolf, but only one of them – Sirius – was shocked by Remus's brazen suggestion. The pureblood saw something pass between the two – a habit he had always found rather annoying – and before he could even open his mouth to comment about it, Hermione had shucked her bra and panties and was standing stark naked in front of him.

Sirius, struck dumb by the rapidity with which the brilliant know-it-all had disrobed, blinked before blurting out the only thing he could think of at the moment:

"Where'd the hair go?"

There was a moment of silence before Hermione started to giggle. Glancing up at her, Sirius saw her trying to hold back her laughter but when his eyes met hers she gave an almighty snort, which had her dissolving into mindless laughter. Remus, too, had started to chuckle, and it wasn't until several moments later – when Sirius had finally wrapped his head around what he had actually said – that the two calmed enough to look at their friend.

"You're quite observant, Sirius," Hermione said with a smirk that had Sirius's already-attentive member perking up even more. "I've always admired that about you."

"I…you have?"

"Yes," she said, sparing a glance at her husband before slinking over to Sirius, straddling his hips and sliding into his lap. "I've always loved the way you have the ability to undress a woman completely with your eyes, picking out all of their most attractive features and concentrating on them as if you _know_ that the woman is beautiful – no matter what."

"Er…" Sirius said, feeling his cock straining against his dark denim jeans. Her body weight felt delicious against him, and her skin called to his hands.

He, however, made no move to touch her as he tilted his head to look past her at his best friend.

"Um…Moony?" he squeaked when Hermione twisted her hips so her heat was directly above his dick. "Not that I…well, that is to say…I'm not complaining, exactly…but…well…your wife's in my lap, mate and…I mean…a man only has so much self-control…"

"Sirius," Remus said, standing and walking over towards them. "Hermione has wanted this for quite some time, actually."

"I…she…wanted what, exactly?"

"You," Hermione whispered in his ear before leaning back against Remus's body.

Her husband kissed her lovingly on the head, his hands sliding up her body to cup her breasts in his large hands, kneading them gently as she let her eyes close and her mouth open, purring slightly under his soft movements.

"We've talked about this," Remus said to Sirius, his fingers starting to pluck at Hermione's nipples. "She wanted to experiment with a third person. I would have preferred a woman, of course, but she thought she might like having a night with you instead, and in the end, I've learned that I really can't deny her anything."

"Kiss me," Hermione breathed to her husband, and Sirius felt his cock jolt at the truly erotic picture of the couple in front of him. Hermione's body was arched as Remus continued to tease her breasts, his lips sliding smoothly over hers, his kiss dominating her until she shivered in submission.

"Wait," Sirius said, shaking his head out of the images of him surging into his best friend's wife's tight body. "You want me…to fuck your wife?"

"Must you make things so vulgar?" Hermione asked with a sigh, her head leaning back on Remus's shoulder as he sank to his knees behind her, allowing her more comfort.

"Well, barring another explanation…"

"I want both of you to fuck me," Hermione said, eyes shining with a mixture of drink and desire. "I want to feel both of you inside me."

Sirius's brow furrowed.

"And…the logistics of this would be…what, exactly? I mean, Moony's like my brother, and…"

"Trust me, Pads, when I say that you and I will remain at an extremely acceptable distance the entire time. Neither you nor I want something to slip and go somewhere it shouldn't," Remus replied dryly.

"But how will I…"

"Stop. Thinking," Hermione whispered before slowly leaning towards him, arms coiling around his neck. "All I need is a simple yes…or no…"

Sirius took one look into her deep hazel orbs and knew that Remus was right.

He really couldn't deny her anything.

"Yes…" he breathed as he felt Hermione's whisky-scented breath on his face. She gave a half-lidded, lopsided grin and kissed the tip of his nose gently.

"Good," she said, biting her lip as her eyes trailed down his body and back up. "Now strip."

He arched an eyebrow.

"I've already taken my clothes off once today. Why don't you do it for me this time?"

The same sexy smirk appeared on her lips and she slowly stood.

"My pleasure," she said, bending down seductively and tugging at the buttons on his black silk shirt. Remus, who had taken a few paces back, watched Hermione's arse as it swayed slightly, her hair tumbling freely over her back and hanging by her face. Sirius allowed a hand to come up and tuck a wayward golden-brown curl behind her ear, savouring the velvet softness of the skin on her neck and cheek.

"Is it bad that I've fantasized about your lips on my cock, kitten?" he asked, flicking his eyes at Remus to make sure that his words were appropriate.

It didn't take long for Sirius to realize that Remus's attention was far removed from him. Hermione's hips seemed to be gyrating in a dance designed to torture her husband in the best possible way; all the while her ink-stained fingers nimbly parted his shirt before moving to his black leather belt.

"Funny," Hermione purred, "I don't think any of the fantasies I've had about my lips around your cock have been bad at all, quite the opposite in fact."

She looked up briefly from where those sure digits pulled the expensive leather from its last loop and gave him a teasing smile. She kept honeyed eyes locked to his as she slipped her hand inside the tight denim at his hips, licking her lips provocatively all the while.

Sirius felt his breath catch as Hermione bent even closer, her lips making contact with his tattooed chest, her whisky laced breath hot against his skin. She worked her way down, tasting and licking, pausing at spots and rushing through others – all the while her fingers moved too, the subtle movements bringing her closer and closer to where he wanted her to be.

When she reached his naval, her tongue darted out to swirl a pattern, a moan escaping her lips as her eyes fluttered shut.

"Remus," she whispered, bringing Sirius's attention screaming back to the other man in the room.

He looked up to find his best friend naked, standing behind his wife, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. One of his scarred hands gripped her hip as he surged into her body again and Sirius suddenly understood that the source of her moans was not caused by the mere thought of where her mouth was headed.

Hermione started moving again, further down to where his cock now strained painfully against the jeans that were entirely too tight for this situation. He shifted his hips to relieve some tension, inadvertently bringing her face closer to where he wanted her to be.

As if sensing his growing discomfort her hand finally stopped its idle movements and slipped further in, gripping his cock with confidence before pulling it from its denim prison. With a groan he sagged back into the armchair, some of the tension that had been thrumming through his body leaving in a gush of pleasant sensations. Using the hand that wasn't bracing herself against the thrusting man behind her, she helped him shimmy out of the jeans.

Hot breath washed over him, causing muscles to clench again in anticipation. He gripped fistfuls of her unruly curls, fighting the urge to guide those moist pink lips to his straining erection. Hermione didn't require guidance though, sensing his growing urgency and darting out her tongue to take one tantalizing swipe of the sensitive heart shaped head.

Sirius threw his head back into the leather armchair, his breath gushing out as she took all of him into her mouth, sliding her moist lips around him until she could go no further.

"Fuck, kitten," he gasp, unable to articulate just how much better the reality was than his now admittedly hazy fantasies.

Hermione grinned around his length, meeting his eyes as she slowly relaxed her throat and took him in another inch, the sensations become almost unbearable.

"Stop teasing him," Remus rumbled from behind her, his hands worshipping her as he stroked in and out, watching the display with lust filled eyes. Sirius forced his eyes away from the talented witch to watch his best friends reaction, but it was clear that the werewolf was focussed only on his wife and the pleasure she was gaining from being wedged between the two of them.

It wasn't until Hermione relaxed her throat even further, sliding her mouth all the way down to his base that he realized just what his best friend meant by teasing. She drew her tongue up his entire length as she slowly rose, sucking hard as she reached the tip once again. From there she managed fulfilled every one of his fantasies and even created some new ones.

She licked, sucked, grazed and swirled her way up and down his shaft. Her fingers played down his thighs and cupped his balls; her breasts swayed inches above him as she moved her body, brushing and teasing the both of them. All of these factors bought about an orgasm that promised to be quicker and more intense than he had experienced in a very long time.

As if sensing how close he was, Hermione began to slow down and pull back. Her own body shuddered above him as Remus did something that seemed to hit a good spot and she moaned, releasing the cock from her mouth with a pop.

"I want you," she whispered, closing her eyes as another shudder ripped through her slight frame.

Sirius was unsure just who she was speaking too, but became distracted from the thought when she stood shakily, turning her back to him to face her husband, kissing the much taller man with such passion and intimacy that the pureblood began to wonder if the game was over and he should be making a quick exit.

Her small hand groped behind her moments before she moved to sit down. Sirius caught on to her intentions after a slightly drunken moment of incomprehension and quickly reached up to guide her, all the while scooting down into the chair for a more comfortable position.

The moment she slid down onto his now aching shaft they both groaned. Sirius had thought having her mouth around him was heaven, but this, this was pure paradise.

"So tight, so hot," he groaned into her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist as he surged up further into her body, feeling her tighten around him in response.

She leant forward in his arms, reaching out to bring Remus closer, his hips now at her eyelevel. Remus's gasp echoed off the heavily dressed walls as she sucked him into her mouth, bouncing between them, creating a rhythm.

Sirius saw stars as her tight muscles clenched and moved over his length, her thighs on either side of his causing a delicious friction and the occasional bump of knees against Remus's reminding him that this would not be how the three of them would be finishing the night.

"Oh God," he heard her moan thickly, when he changed the angle, hitting the spot he had been aiming for deep within her.

"Do you want to cum?" Remus asked, his hands tangled in her hair as he watched her swallow him over and over again, gently guiding her each time she became distracted from one of Sirius's thrusts.

Sirius had the inkling that this was a bit of a loaded question, and one she had been asked several times before. Remus was, after all, an alpha wolf and she was quite possibly one of the bossiest witches he had come across, so it wouldn't be surprising if they spent much of the time in the bedroom trying to dominate the other. He could just imagine the little minx had enough tricks to drive a man insane.

Both men watched as she shook her head, lapping at Remus's sensitive head before replying with defiant breathlessness "No," before returning to her enthusiastic bouncing, driving the three of them wild.

Sirius snaked his hand down her front, brushing over her nipple briefly before sliding his hand down to the smooth apex of her thighs, marvelling at the softness of her skin there. His fingers found her open to him, her tight nub wet with arousal as he continued to thrust into her body.

Arching her back, she cried out again, responding to the added pleasure.

"Are you going to cum?" Sirius asked, rephrasing her husband's question, thrusting hard several times before easing off and letting her answer.

"Not until…" she gasped, pulling away from Remus to throw her head back, impaling herself deeply as her body clung to his, "… I have both of you," she finished with a groan, slowing down until she came to a stop.

Breathing heavily, bodies quivering, they manoeuvred to the plush rug that took up much of the hardwood floor. Sirius didn't know how much more he could take, but he welcomed the short respite as they stretched out on the thick cloth, Hermione turning into Remus's arms and kissing him deeply as she let her own body calm down.

The kiss turned into petting and it was only a matter of minutes before the werewolf had rolled onto his back, spreading her legs wide as he surged neatly inside her. Sirius watched the gentle rhythm and the familiar way in which they moved together before deciding it was now or never to give the witch what she wanted.

He moved behind them, running his hands down her back until he reached the swell of her backside. Muttering a spell he was surprised he even remembered, he made eye contact with Remus over her shoulder and the couple once again slowed to a stop.

The initial penetration was awkward and uncomfortable, the two of them almost too large to take the petite woman at the same time. Her encouraging moans and soft sighs eventually saw them into a position that was as comfortable as they were going to get and before long the gentle rocking motion they had found gave way steady cadence of push and shove.

Her sighs became cries, which gave way to soft screams of delight, as her body tensed and tightened between them.

"That's it baby," Remus encouraged from below them, his own voice sounding strained.

Sirius wasn't sure if any more words were exchanged between the couple, as he felt his own familiar release begin, causing his stomach muscles to bunch and the rest of his body to tense up. He had to fight not to thrust too deeply into the woman beneath him as he hunched over her, his fingernails biting into the rug. Sweet oblivion clouded his vision and only in the back of his mind did he register that it wasn't just his own cries that bounced off the walls of the ancient library.

It was a short time later when he pulled his weight off of her, dropping limply onto his back as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Bloody hell," he breathed, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. There was a sliver of light peeking through the windows. Dawn was approaching slowly. It threw into staggering clarity just what exactly had occurred between the three of them over the past hours.

A bubble of laughter erupted from his right. Turning his head, he saw a pair of whisky-coloured eyes gazing at him laughingly, an impish smile on her face. Her body was still unabashedly bare, though curled comfortably against the languid frame of her longer, leaner husband.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Sirius asked, the clarity releasing the images of the evening and the practiced manner everything seemed to have taken place.

"Planned it? How could _I_ have possibly _planned_ it, Mr. Black?" Hermione responded, though she was grinning broadly as she snuggled deeper into the embrace of the man behind her.

Sneaking a look at his best friend, Sirius's nostrils flared as he saw a deep satisfaction – almost a smugness – to Remus's face. It _had_ been planned. All of that whispering during the photo shoot, all of those secret smiles and meaningful looks – they had talked about doing this before.

Sirius had never before felt so _manipulated_.

Jumping to his feet, Sirius knew he didn't have much of a moral high ground, considering he had enjoyed himself immensely and was still standing in front of them wearing nothing but what Merlin had blessed him with from birth, but at the moment that seemed thoroughly unimportant to the mild indignation that was filling him at his friends' assumption of his own wicked ways.

"I can't believe you _planned_ this!" he roared, glaring down at them.

A smile twitched on Remus's lips as both looked up with wide, innocent eyes.

"Are you saying that we shouldn't have?" the werewolf asked mildly, blinking up at his best friend. "Because if you didn't want to do it, you should have said something."

"I was under the impression that you weren't particularly _unhappy_ with the results of our gentle manipulation," Hermione added, the start of a smirk on her own full lips.

"I…but…that's hardly the point!" Sirius choked, crossing his arms petulantly at the fact that both his friends could see through his dramatic show.

"Sirius," Hermione said, raising her body up on her elbow. "Please. Do you regret it?"

The animagus slowly shook his head.

"Neither do we," she said, lowering back down and looking up into her husband's face.

Sirius had to swallow the lump of happiness in his throat when he saw Remus's proud, loving face looking deeply into the eyes of his equally adoring wife, his hand splayed protectively over Hermione's lower abdomen.

"When?" Sirius asked softly.

Remus glanced up at him.

"We found out awhile ago. She's due in five months."

Sirius's eyes widened.

"_She_?"

Hermione grinned.

"We don't know, but Remus thinks it's a girl."

"It's a girl," Remus added definitively, running his fingers gently over Hermione's womb. "A father just knows these things."

Sirius lowered himself to the floor, sitting Indian style as he surveyed the couple.

"So this whole thing," he said, motioning between them. "It was a one-time thing?"

Remus's eyes flicked up to him immediately, guarded, but Sirius shook his head with a small smile.

"I don't think I could do it again, honestly."

Hermione smirked.

"Too much for you, Sirius?"

He laughed.

"Would you believe me if I said 'no'?"

Hermione smiled gently, looking up at her husband.

"It was wonderful," she said softly, and Sirius knew she was no longer addressing him. "It was wonderful but I don't want it again. Do you?"

The werewolf chuckled.

"It took everything I had not to tear his throat out this time," he teased, leaning down and nuzzling his nose with hers, saying: "I don't share very well."

She smirked.

"Then I suppose I shall be teaching our child how to share, shall I?"

Sirius, recognizing that he was no longer a part of the intimate moment, slowly gathered his clothes up and left the room. As he shut the door, he heard a trickle of laughter, and smiled. Their moment would be something that he would hold onto for the rest of his life, but he would do absolutely everything in his power to make sure it didn't happen again. Not ever. He didn't want it, and neither did they.

As he headed up the stairs, he warded the door of the library. The last thing the happy couple needed was to be disturbed. With a private smile of his own, Sirius yawned and skipped up the stairs to bed, prepared to greet the coming dawn with peaceful sleep.

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_Thanks for Reading and Please Review!_


	6. Chapter 6: Sibling Rivalry I

_**Author's Note: **We're not entirely sure how it's possible for us to go through a full year & a bit without an update to this story, but apparently that's what we've done. I don't think we can express just how sorry we are for that fact aside from categorically stating that the dreaded **REAL LIFE** has been utterly exhausting._

_That said, we hope you take a few moments (or hours, depending on how quickly you read) to catch up on the first chapter so you remember precisely what you're reading._

_We hope you enjoy this!_

* * *

**Chapter Six – Sibling Rivalry – Part I**

Lavender's stomach lurched as the long-distance port key spiralled her through time and space, taking her to Romania where four hunky redheaded Weasleys would be waiting for her. She'd always hated this form of travel, but it was the quickest and easiest way to get to her destination, even if it meant the possibility of losing her lunch on arrival.

The spinning began to slow and in a matter of minutes she felt herself dropping to the ground. It was only seconds later – when the snow crept up and spilled into her knee-length leather boots that had cost more than she cared to admit – that she realized that somebody had made a grave error in judgment.

She heard Romilda drop to the ground behind her and by the sounds of it the other witch hadn't landed on her feet. She bent over to tug at her boots, but they were stuck fast in the snow.

"Ah, Romi, a little help?" she called back, seeing a set of practical red rubber boots enter her vision.

Romilda towered above her, giggling at her friend's predicament.

"Way to make an entrance."

Lavender rolled her eyes.

"Just help me out, will you?" she sighed, holding her hands out to grip the brunette's wrists, trying to pull herself out one foot at a time.

After a moment of intense tugging, Romilda pulled back with a sigh, straightening her matching red coat and fixing her hair.

"It's no use, you're stuck," she said, pointing out the obvious.

Lavender bent over, trying once more to tug her feet out when she noticed her friend's attention had wavered from the situation at hand.

"You must be Charlie!" Romilda was saying, abandoning her in the snow to address the man who had just appeared out of the trees.

"Lavender?" he asked Romilda, reaching her easily in the snow, his sure footing showing just how used to the mountainous conditions he was.

Romilda giggled, tucking a few stray curls behind her ear as she corrected him.

"No, I'm Romilda. That's Lav, stuck in the snow."

Mortified, Lavender gave a feeble wave around her friend before she returned to her now-desperate tugging.

"Need a hand?" Charlie asked, walking around Romilda and grinning when he saw just how stuck she was.

"Yes, please," Lavender almost sighed, looking up and into the man's amused face.

The first thing she noticed was his eyes, the pale blue standing out against the dark tan and freckles. He had small laugh lines around the edges, as if he spent a lot of the time grinning like he was now. He reached out to her with large calloused hands, gripping her wrists with sure confidence and with a soft whoosh, her feet came free of the boots and she was standing inches from his broad chest in nothing but her sheer stockings.

"Um," Lavender said, swallowing hard as she fought to regain control of her cognitive functions, "Thanks."

Charlie smiled broadly, letting her go as he bent down and plucked her soggy boots out of the snow.

"No problem," he said, handing her back her boots and throwing her a sexy half-smirk that would have ordinarily had her knees knocking together had they already not been knocking together because of the cold.

"Don't mean to interrupt, but this is supposed to be a 'shirts versus skins' Quidditch match, and I'm afraid the pictures won't turn out very well if the boys have turned all blue," Romilda's voice sailed over to them, and Lavender wrenched her gaze away from the broad-shouldered, muscular redhead in front of her to glare at her friend.

"_Someone_ should have checked to make sure it wasn't _bloody snowing_," she said accusingly, stumbling slightly as she wrenched her soaked leather boots over her wet stockinged feet, wishing to Merlin that Playwitch had sent a different editor on location.

"Didn't I mention it would be?" Romilda asked airily, shooting Charlie a broad smile as he came to walk beside her. "Thought I'd owled..."

Lavender continued to glare at her friend's back, struggling through the snow and trying to contain the urge to set that expensive red coat aflame as Romilda lay a delicate hand on Charlie's bicep.

"You don't mind being one of the two who have to go shirtless, do you, Charlie?" the curly-haired brunette asked with a flirtatious lilt to her voice. "After all, we figured you were used to this type of weather."

"Yeah, no problem," he said, glancing behind him and catching the look of frustration on Lavender's face as the blonde tried desperately to navigate the perilous ground. "Having trouble, Lav?"

"No," she said half-heartedly, but found herself sprawled on the ground seconds later as her foot made contact with a snow-covered rock.

She wiped snow from her face and wished the ground would swallow her whole as she saw a pair of thick brown hiking boots appear in front of her. Looking up into those cerulean eyes, she felt a deep flush start to build up her neck and over her face, and tears of embarrassment threatened to spring to her eyes.

"C'mon," he said kindly, offering his hand. "You didn't know it would be like this. It only just snowed last night. I wouldn't have thought to wear hiking boots if I hadn't slid on a patch of ice outside my cabin."

She smiled gratefully, once again taking his outstretched hand and pulling herself up. She squealed, however, when he swept down and picked her up, cradling her in his arms as if she weighed nothing as he trudged back toward Romilda.

"That being said," he added with a chuckle. "I do worry that my twin brothers might get the bright idea to pass the time by starting a snowball fight, so I would rather not have to watch you wobble around in those thoroughly impractical but undeniably sexy boots."

Lavender's blush deepened but shot Romilda a look of triumph as she saw the younger witch's nostrils flare in mild jealousy.

"That's not the worst idea, actually," Lavender said, a thought coming to her head after she had spent a few seconds revelling in Romilda's reaction. "A snowball fight, I mean."

Charlie glanced at her.

"You clearly have never had one against Fred and George," he joked.

"No, I mean for the photo shoot," Lavender said, glancing at Romilda. "Instead of Quidditch? I mean, we already have a 'Quidditch Hotties' section. Why not make this one a snowball fight? Boxers versus briefs."

Romilda's expression turned from mild envy to sparkling interest in less than a millisecond.

"That's perfect," she grinned. She fell into step with the two of them, her red boots crunching easily over the snow.

"I was kidding," Charlie said, looking down at the woman in his arms before staring at the woman at his side. Lavender twisted in his strong grip, capturing Romilda's excited gaze as they shared the brainwave.

"They'd have to be quick, spontaneous shots, which is perfect," the brunette said, pulling her pad and paper from one oversized pocket, "I haven't quite got the hang of Ginny's spare camera."

"Fred and George in boxers?" Lavender asked, watching Romilda write down notes furiously as they continued to walk through the dense tree line, coming out to a clearing that housed a dozen log cabins.

"Yup, Charlie and Bill in briefs. This is perfect, this _will_ be perfect," the other woman said with conviction, dotting her 'I's violently.

"Um, sorry to interrupt," Charlie said, not sounding sorry at all, in fact he sounded quite concerned. Lavender was suddenly very aware of the muscles bunching in his arms and his hand resting against the back of her thighs, dangerously close to where the hem of her skirt and jacket fell.

"Not at all," Romilda said, blinking up at him with a smile that could have melted the snow around them.

Charlie didn't return the smile, but he did adjust his grip with a small bounce, the movement the only indication he was uncomfortable with the sudden, unwavering attention.

"It's just, you guys realize how cold it is out here, right?" he asked.

Romilda frowned, then blurted out the one thing Lavender wished she hadn't.

"You're worried about shrinkage, right?"

The blonde cringed, suppressing her groan at the complete lack of tact and how unprofessional the question came across. Charlie seemed to be just as taken aback, his hold on her slipping for just a second before he recovered, his hand a little higher up her thigh than it had been a moment earlier.

"Shrin…no, well, yes. I mean…that could be an issue…" he stuttered.

Lavender snuck a glance up at his face, finding the man blushing to his roots. The fact that anyone could make such a seemingly-confident and sexy man get flustered was intriguing, as if he wasn't used to bold female attention. And Romilda was never one to be subtle.

"You'll be out in the snow, ten minutes tops. I promise," the very-much-taken witch simpered, blinking up at him with a look that promised much more than a quick photo-shoot.

Lavender felt an irrational surge of jealousy course through her, watching her friend flirt with the man who was currently acting as her knight in shining armour. She made a mental note to remind Romilda about the boyfriend she had waiting at home. Surely even Cormac McLaggen, the most self-absorbed man since Merlin himself, would care that his girlfriend was flirting with other men.

They were interrupted from their discussion on shrinkage and weather when the door of the nearest cabin was flung open and Bill Weasley stepped out to greet them.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he asked, though the easy smile on his handsomely-scarred face showed his good nature.

"Sorry, Bill. Lav here had some issues landing," Romilda said with her dazzling smile, her attention on Charlie all but forgotten as she skipped over to the eldest Weasley. "I'm Romilda."

"Oh, yes," Bill said, giving her a smile of equal wattage. "You'd be the Romilda that Cormac McLaggen keeps going on about."

Lavender felt a smirk form on her lips as her friend blushed slightly.

"Er...yes. Cormac and I..."

"Are _lovers_," Lavender interrupted, milking the moment for all its worth as she jumped out of Charlie's arms, smoothing out her skirt and sauntering over to Bill, her hips sashaying from side to side to give the man behind her a good view of her curves. "Hi, Bill. We've met once, I think. At the Burrow."

She extended her hand and felt a wave of triumph once again as Bill gave her a sexy smirk, bending over her small wrist and dropping a kiss upon it while Romilda's nostrils flared in jealousy.

"Yes, I remember. Kept wondering what it was about my baby brother that made all the gorgeous birds flock to him. First Hermione then you and now Tonks...granted, he's met his match with Tonks," he said, his blue eyes sliding over her body with an appreciation that only the most discerning of ladies' men possessed.

"Yeah, they're a pair," Lavender agreed, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder as she regained the confidence she had lost when she had found herself hip-deep in snow. "Now, as much as I would love to catch up, I feel it's my duty to forewarn you that Romi and I have changed the plans a little bit."

Bill arched an eyebrow.

"Have you? In the," he glanced at his watch. "Five minutes since you landed?"

"They've decided to put us in briefs," Charlie said, and Lavender glanced behind her to see him leaning casually against a post, muscular arms crossed comfortably over his chest. "They've also told us not to worry about shrinkage," he added, a smile threatening to cross his handsome face.

Bill swallowed hard.

"Of the numerous things I was worried about, that wasn't one of them...until now," he said, running his hands over the faded leather jacket he was wearing.

"You won't be straddling a broomstick either, just in case you were worried about that," Romilda said, trying to bring the attractive redhead's attention back to her. "In fact, we're not putting any of you on brooms."

Bill frowned.

"How are we meant to play Quidditch if you're not giving us brooms?" he asked.

"They want us to have a snowball fight. You and I versus Fred and George," Charlie answered, a broad grin now pasted on his face as he watched the horror creep over his elder brother.

"You want _us_ to fight against Fred and George? Are you insane?" Bill hissed.

"Did we hear our names?" a cheerful voice said behind the older man, and Lavender could have sworn she heard Bill groan as a pair of mischievous red heads popped around the door of the cabin.

"There are ladies present boys, behave yourselves," Charlie warned, smirking the whole time.

"Ah if it isn't Lav-Lav & our beautiful muse, Romilda," Fred grinned, holding his arms out wide as if to encompass them in a hug. Both women took a step back suspiciously.

Romilda's eyes widened and her cheeks became strained red, "Mu-muse, I don't know what you're talking about," she stuttered.

"Of course you do," George said, ignoring the witch who was now frantically shaking her head, turning to address his older brothers, "Romilda here is the one who gave our Ronnie that love potion back in his sixth year."

"Yup, she was our inspiration for the entire WonderWitch line," Fred piped in, laughing when she turned an impossible shade of red.

Bill laughed, "I didn't realize you were the same Romilda."

Lavender felt obligated to jump to her friends rescue, "That was a long time ago," she defended.

"Ah yes, can't say we were too disappointed to have missed you and Won-Won snogging behind all the tapestries at Hogwarts," George said, making a face.

"From what I heard there was a few times when they didn't quite make it…" Fred started but was abruptly cut off.

"Pants off. We don't have all day to be standing around in the snow," Lavender said, her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears.

Fred and George burst out laughing but began to remove the top layers of their winter clothing, "I love a demanding bird," one of them commented.

"I love how you two just take your clothes off without even knowing why," Charlie marvelled, pushing away from the post to tug at his overcoat.

"Any excuse," they chorused, shrugging.

Lavender and Romilda shared a look as the four men disrobed in record time. It was hard to know where to look, whether it was acceptable to just stare at them all in awe or to look away in some meek show of modesty.

Lavender found her eyes surreptitiously sliding in Bill's direction where he unashamedly displayed the scars left by the same werewolf that had scarred her. They drew attention to his broad shoulders and wide muscular chest, the barely visible smattering of hair adding to the effect of overall manliness.

It took her a moment to realize he was watching her too, the smirk on his face having nothing to do with the present conversation and everything to do with what he knew she was thinking. She blushed but met those blue eyes for a moment, letting him know just what a turn on those scars were.

"Oh my freaking Merlin," Romilda suddenly squealed in her ear, bringing her back to stark reality.

"Real professional," Lavender muttered out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes drifting away from Bill, who was taking off his pants as slowly as he could.

"Do you blame me?" her friend muttered back, her eyes fixed to the line of Bill's torso as he stretched his long body, thoroughly unfazed by the fact that he was, in fact, wearing yellow briefs.

"Gotta admire a man who can wear bold colours," Charlie teased, shucking his jeans to reveal a more conservative pair of grey briefs. Lavender swallowed hard as she tried not to notice the impressive bulge that both of the older Weasley brothers sported.

For the sake of her own sanity, she tried to avoid looking at the twins.

"How did you know Bill and Charlie would already be wearing briefs?" Fred asked as he pulled his jumper over his head.

"Or that we would be wearing underwear at all," George added, kicking off his boots as he stood comfortably topless in the snow.

"The only one I wasn't sure about was Bill, but clearly he decided to go with a cheerful theme today," Romilda said, turning toward the twins and her eyes immediately going to their groin. Lavender had known them too long to really be taken in by their boyish good looks but Romilda was far enough on the fringe of their social circle to be unabashedly admiring of the twins' good looks.

"Why weren't you sure about me?" Bill asked, trying to sound wounded and failing miserably.

"Really?" Charlie deadpanned to his brother, eyebrow arched. "This is the first time I've ever heard of you owning a pair of underwear, let alone seeing you wear a pair."

"Well, it was cold…"

"Alright!" Lavender said loudly, knowing that any conversation that started with undergarments could lead to places she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to confront while sober. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Not that I don't enjoy a brisk winter day in the semi-nude, but could you tell us why we had to disrobe?" Fred asked, dancing from one foot to the other as he got used to the cold ground.

"And I think it's only fair that you ladies shared the wealth. After all, we did show you ours…" George added with a playful wink that had Romilda blushing.

"You'll see nothing and like it," Lavender said, though from Bill and Charlie's heated gaze she wasn't entirely sure the idea was without merit.

"Spoil sport," George said.

"But back to the original question…" Fred asked again.

"Snowball fight. Boxers versus briefs. Go!" Romilda shouted, having pulled Ginny's spare camera from one of her many massive pockets and was starting to snap away as the ginger-haired men started running around the compound like schoolboys.

"Is it just a little weird that the twins are wearing identically-patterned boxers?" Lavender asked her shutter-happy friend.

"I'm not nearly as interested in the print as what's beneath them, Lav," Romilda replied, to which Lavender couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Sometimes it amazes me that someone as man-crazy as you was even considered to work for this magazine," she said.

"I think it's a prerequisite, actually," Romilda replied, and the pair shared a grin.

*SPLAT!*

"Hey!" Romilda screeched, "I will not be held responsible for your sisters camera being ruined. Aim for each other!"

Fred, or perhaps it was George, dropped the second snowball he had aimed at them and ducked as another flew his way. Lavender bit her lip as she brushed the powdery snow from her friend's jacket.

On the other side of the compound a few of the other Tamer's had ventured out into the cold to see what all the noise was about. The mostly male population of the Dragon Reserve seemed to have sensed that a sporting competition was taking place and were gravitating toward it.

"Romilda, we might need to wrap up before things get out of hand," Lavender pointing out, while her friend continued to snap away, the little light at the top of the camera popping up as dark clouds settled above them.

"Are you seriously suggesting we call an end to this gorgeous display of man flesh in action?"

"Who are you to be admiring their flesh? Don't you have McLaggen at your beck and call these days?" Lavender replied with a smirk, watching as one of the other Tamer's picked up a handful of snow, shaping it in his gloved palms.

"I wish. Cormac is too enamoured with himself half of the time to pay attention to the legions of women around him," Romilda replied with a sigh, following Bill and Charlie with the camera as they worked as a team to magically create an army of snowballs.

"The way you talk it's as if you see yourself as a passing fling," Lavender commented, chancing a glance at her friend before returning to the increasingly violent match.

"I just… it's only…" Romilda failed twice, cringing when a snowball hit Fred squarely in the chest, flinging him backwards into the snow.

"Yes?"

"I just wish he would look at me," she blurted out, pulling the camera away from her face to stare at the blonde.

"What?"

"I just want him to look at me. You know, the way Ron looks at Tonks, or Harry looks at Draco, or the way _they_ have been looking at _you_ since we got here," she finished, flinging the hand holding the camera in the direction of Bill and Charlie.

Lavender blushed, turning to look at them as they moved around the compound with ease, "He does look at you that way," she replied, feeling a little thrill to know that the heated looks shared between the three of them weren't all in her imagination.

"He does?" Romilda asked, clearing her throat quickly and bringing the camera back up to continue taking snaps.

"Of course, you're just so blinded by his perfect bloody teeth that you need sunglasses every time you look up at his face," Lavender snorted, effectively lightening the mood.

A few more shots of the scampering men had Lavender and Romilda satisfied that they would have _something_ to show for their day in Romania. A few shots of each brothers separately - except for the twins, who Bill suggested be photographed together as no one would be able to tell them apart otherwise - and the two witches were putting the camera away.

Romilda didn't hide her displeasure as the four red heads quickly jumped back into their clothes.

"You know, if you want to stand around in your underwear, you won't get a complaint out of me," she said flirtatiously to Bill as he buttoned his jeans.

Lavender rolled her eyes.

"In the off-chance that you'd like to avoid hypothermia and frostbite, however, we understand," she added, nudging her friend as Romilda was once again distracted by the burns and scars that criss-crossed the eldest Weasley's body.

"Am I safe in assuming that your thinly-veiled attempt at flattery is only directed toward Bill, and the rest of us are free to avoid the aforementioned climate-induced consequences?" George asked lightly as he rubbed his arms, grinning ingenuously as Romilda threw him a glare.

"Jealous, boys?" Bill replied smartly, flexing his biceps with a grin at his brothers.

"Don't flatter yourself, darling brother. We have a pretty young witch waiting for us back home," Fred replied, though he flexed his own not-unimpressive bicep when he saw Romilda steal a glance his way.

Charlie shook his head with a chuckle, throwing his shirt over his shoulder as he strode topless toward his cabin. Lavender found herself following him with her eyes, admiring the way the second eldest Weasley's back muscles moved as he passed her. She swallowed hard as she watched drops of melted snow slide a path down his tanned skin.

George sighed.

"Fred, I believe we are once again out-matched by the brawn that is our dragon-tamer brother," he said.

Fred shrugged.

"That's alright. I'd rather continue being known as the brains of the family."

Bill snorted.

"Brains? You've been spending too much time huffing potion fumes, boys. Everyone knows the brains of the Weasley family is..."

"Ginny," both Romilda and Lavender interrupted, to which all four men turned and stared indignantly as the two witches descended into giggles.

Gathering her wits about her, Lavender looked at her watch and jumped slightly.

"Oh dear. Speaking of Ginny, we promised her we'd get her camera back to her by seven, Romi. We'll have to leave now if we want to make that very strict deadline."

"Must you go?" Charlie asked, leaning against the door frame of his cabin.

"Would you have me risk the wrath of your little sister? I haven't done anything to you."

"You mean, aside from making us strip to our skivvies and prance around in the snow?" Fred deadpanned.

"You loved every minute of it, so don't you start complaining now," Lavender replied smartly.

Fred sighed.

"I _did_ enjoy it," he admitted. "But you present a good point, Lav-Lav. Some of us have _work_ to be getting to. Why don't we share the port key back to Diagon Alley and you ladies can skip off to tell our darling sister of your scandalous afternoon with us?"

Romilda chuckled.

"She asked us, as a professional courtesy, to be as spare with the details as we can manage," she said. Then she turned to Lavender, whose gaze had drifted back to the topless Charlie and the smirking Bill. "Coming?"

"Huh?" Lavender asked, blushing as she caught both Charlie and Bill grin.

Romilda looked from her friend to the elder red heads and sighed.

"I suppose four people is one too many for the port key. Why don't I take the camera to Ginny and you can come back to London later with Bill?" she suggested, though her eyes met her friend with a mixture of mild disapproval and wild jealousy.

"Oh. No. I couldn't," Lavender said, though her sincerity was thoroughly unconvincing, which just made the men's grins broaden.

"I swear, you will spare me no details the minute you get back," Romilda murmured before Fred and George grabbed her firmly by each arm and started to walk away.

"Have fun, you three," Fred said genially, throwing a wave.

"Use protection!" George added, to which Lavender responded with a rather rude hand gesture.

When the three were out of sight, Lavender turned to the two men who were now watching her as if she were a delectable morsel of something.

She gave a small smile.

"Uh...you wouldn't happen to have any firewhiskey, would you?"

Charlie smirked, gesturing toward the open door of his cabin.

"Right this way, m'lady," he said.

Looking between the two of them, Lavender crossed the threshold. A small shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold when she felt one large hand settle on her lower back, guiding her into the warm cabin.

The interior was…neat. Well, as neat as a bachelor pad could get, Lavender concluded.

Two threadbare, but comfortable looking couches; a functional kitchen table with mismatched chairs and walls lined with bookshelves. Lavender had never taken Charlie for much of a reader, so she wasn't surprised when she saw his bookshelves weren't filled with books as much as small odds and ends he had collected over the years, as well as tarnished Quidditch trophy and a small, feebly-fluttering snitch. It all made for a very cluttered looking living space. A door to the left showed the narrow, dimly lit kitchen and a door to the right showed the single bedroom with the huge, unmade four-poster bed.

Charlie moved ahead to tend the low burning fire and Bill left her side and headed toward the kitchen. Lavender was left to remove her coat as she surveyed the modest surroundings and revaluate the situation she was walking into.

She had to repress the almost girly squeal that bubbled in her chest when it fully occurred to her that she was in the presence of not one, but _two_ of Hogwarts hottest graduates in the last several decades. Charlie and Bill had become the stuff of legends in the girls' dormitories, their exploits chronicled in detail in many a girl's diary and more than a few gory details could be found on the inside of scattered lavatory doors.

Placing her coat neatly on the seemingly little-used coat rack, she walked slowly around the room to sit down, sternly reminding herself that she could be misjudging the situation and the two older men could simply be offering her a drink – a mere gesture.

But then, there was the way they both kept looking at her…

"Hot toddy?" Bill asked as he re-entered the room, breaking her confused thoughts.

"Thanks," she smiled, feeling a shiver down her arm when their hands brushed.

She took a grateful sip of the steaming drink, finally taking into account just how cold she was. As Bill took a seat on the couch next to her and Charlie settled back comfortably on the rug in front of the fire, she began plotting the best way to remove her now snow-encrusted leather boots as gracefully – and surreptitiously – as possible.

"It's funny, we're the ones who have been running around naked in the snow, yet you're the one who's looking a little blue," the younger of the two men commented with a chuckle before putting down his mug and moving toward her.

Lavender felt her pulse speed up when the muscular redhead reached for her left foot, as if he had been reading her mind the entire time. His deft, calloused fingers ran up her ankle and calf, stopping at her knee to grip the edge of the ruined black leather. Before she could take a shuddering breath, the soggy footwear was tossed to the side and his fingers seemed to be creeping higher still.

"You really will freeze to death if you stay in these wet clothes," he grinned up at her.

If it weren't for Bill's quick reflexes, she would have dropped the streaming drink down her lap. As it was, he caught the mug just in time, setting it to the side out of harm's way while simultaneously sliding closer to her.

"I think we can think of a few ways to warm you up," Bill breathed in the witch's ear, and Lavender was certain she had died and gone to heaven when she felt hot, teasing butterfly kisses press lightly against her neck.

"I…I…" she stammered, trying to come up with something pithy and coherent but Charlie's fingers were dancing nimbly over her skin, kneading into her tired muscles while Bill's sinfully-salacious lips worked upon every nerve ending she possessed.

In the end, she decided to give up on speech altogether and let out a long, breathy moan.

Charlie chuckled.

"Seems to be doing the trick," he said, and Lavender was certain the comment was directed toward his brother because both men seemed fully aware that she was melting into a puddle of thoroughly-seduced female fantasy.

Charlie's fingers slid further up her thigh at the same moment that Bill's teasing teeth nibbled at her earlobe. Whether it was the idea that she was careening towards a decidedly _non_-platonic encounter with the two men, or the realization that she was about to have sex for the first time in longer than she cared to think about, Lavender sat up straight, nearly kicking Charlie and head-butting Bill in the process.

"Everything alright?" Bill asked, eyes slightly hooded as his gaze travelled down her body, taking in her heaving breasts and long, stockinged legs.

"Er…yes," she said, smoothing out her skirt nervously. "Um…but this whole thing…"

"Are you saying you don't want to?" Charlie asked, and had Lavender been in a better state of mind, she would have been slightly aggravated by the cocky disbelief in his voice.

"I'm not exactly sure what…what I'm agreeing to," she stated, as delicately as she could.

The brothers exchanged a look.

"We're not going to do anything you don't want us to do to you," Bill said.

"And that list can be as short – or as long – as you'd like it to be," Charlie added, a smug half-smirk gracing his freckled face.

"I just…the dynamics of…that is to say, I've never…"

She couldn't get the words out, and feeling rather like a blushing schoolgirl, Lavender closed her eyes to avoid looking at the amusement that lay in the matching sapphire orbs of the older men.

"Lav…love," Bill said, and she almost jumped when the voice came from right next to her ear. "I'm more of a…hands-off…type of bloke. I prefer…dictating."

Lavender opened her eyes and turned to look at the man's scarred face, utterly perplexed.

"Dictating?" she asked.

"Yes," he said simply. "For example, I have a feeling Charlie really wants to kiss you. And I think he should. Now."

Before she could comprehend his words, Lavender found herself engulfed by the dragon tamer, his lips descending on hers and stealing her breath. Momentarily frozen, her confusion was no match for his fiery insistence, and within seconds she had parted her lips to him, fingers raking through the tumble of red locks she had wanted to run her hands through since the moment he had appeared from the woods.

Kissing Charlie was like nothing Lavender had ever come close to experiencing before. He took her to a level of eroticism she hadn't realized existed. Clothed or unclothed, he brought out a need that made her tug his hair and press her body wantonly against him. She needed to breathe but felt absolutely no compulsion to do so if it meant leaving his lips for even the briefest of moments.

It was like consuming heat itself, tinged with an icy edge that kept her from bursting into flame. He tasted like firewhisky, snow and a crisp winter. She knew, somewhere in what was left of her conscious mind, that it was silly to think that someone _tasted_ like a crisp winter. But to her, Charlie tasted like that magical moment when the weather hinted at the season that brought fireside hot chocolate and warm woolly socks.

Perhaps it had been the snowy romp, but Lavender didn't care where the feelings came from. She just let herself be consumed.

"I think," Bill's husky, disembodied voice floated through the air, "That we'd all be more comfortable in the bedroom."

Lavender barely had time to process the suggestion before she once-again found herself in Charlie's arms, moving toward the small bedroom with the enormous bed. This time, however, there was no pretence of modesty on his part. His calloused hands gripped her thighs beneath her skirt, their strength promising everything as she took the opportunity to breathe and regain some sense of reality.

He tossed her upon the downy duvet and she bounced, pulling herself up against the pillows and watching as he slowly slid his belt out of his buckle, the thick strap of leather slapping gently against the muscle of his upper thigh as he left it to unbutton his trousers.

Bill stood motionless at the doorframe, staring at Lavender's heaving body upon the bed.

"Take off your blouse," he demanded of her, his blue eyes dark with desire.

Lavender swallowed, her gaze moving from the undressing redhead to the fully-clothed one and still having absolutely no idea which one was sexier. As she brought her trembling fingers to the buttons of her cream blouse, she couldn't help but hope that Bill didn't remain clothed for long.

She slipped the admittedly-prim garment off her shoulders and dropped it over the side of the bed, aware of the scars that criss-crossed her skin but for the first time in her life she found that she was not self-conscious about it. Both men in front of her had their share of scars. They wore them with honour. She felt she should as well.

"You are stunning," Charlie whispered as he sat at the edge of the bed, his fingers starting to dance up her arms to trace the delicate lines of scar tissue over her neck and shoulders.

"Close your eyes, love," Bill said, his voice allowing no room for argument while still maintaining its gentle, sexy tenor. Lavender shivered, letting her eyes drift closed in order to focus completely on Charlie's touch.

His fingers slid down the tops of her breasts before making sensual circles around her lace-covered nipples. She let out a breath, the electricity racing over her nerves before bolting to her core, gooseflesh coating her skin. He didn't, however, linger. She felt his warm palms flatten against her bare stomach, both hands caressing her as if she were made of clay and he the master sculptor.

It was, by far, the sexiest thought that had crossed her mind in a very long time.

As one hand slid to rest under the waistband of her skirt, still against her stomach, the other moved to the zipper. He brought it down so slowly and in her hyper-focused state, she could feel the tiny vibrations of its metal teeth against her skin.

The mattress dipped as a third body joined them in bed. She opened her eyes briefly to find Bill had pushed off from his position against the door frame and felt her pulse begin to thrum harder against her throat.

Her eyelids fluttered closed again when Charlie's hand dipped beneath the waistband of her skirt, his rough digits seeking the heat that threatened to send her out of her mind. She arched her hips, her behaviour leaving no question about exactly what she wanted.

He removed the remainder of her clothing with great dexterity, distracting her with yet another mind searing kiss that left her breathless with passion. His lips moved down her body, teasing her nipples, tickling her ribs and naval, before pausing above the neatly trimmed patch of hair between her thighs.

She felt Bill move beside her before he whispered in her ear, "Open your legs, love."

Lavender couldn't stop the shiver that coursed down her spine at his roughly-spoken command, nor could she stop the almost involuntary spreading of her thighs. She felt wicked and more than a little exposed as both men made indecipherable sounds of appreciation.

Charlie's fingers coursed a track back up her bare legs, his hair falling in his eyes as he made his way up her body. She felt the tension she hadn't known she was carrying around her shoulders leave her body in one long breath when he finally touched her.

He pressed his entire palm against her core and gently flexed his fingers; his lips searing hers as the most unexpected pleasure arose from the simple move. Her hips arched in response, the sensitive skin pulling against his hand and she was forced to let out a shuddering breath against his lips.

He kissed her for several long minutes, until she was almost out of her mind and close to the point of begging for more. Somehow she had become sprawled across the bed, and it was a moment longer before she realized that it was Bill's thigh she was using as a pillow. Charlie chose that moment of clarity to move down her body, his tongue delving where his fingers had been, and those same fingers moving on to explore deep inside her.

She threw her head back in a silent scream of pleasure, her eyes meeting the eldest Weasley brother as he watched on. She noted the slight parting of his lips and the way his chest rose and feel a little too quickly – he really did get off on watching.

He spoke into the heated silence, his eyes never leaving hers, "Just get on with it, Charlie. Fuck her already."

Lavender tore her gaze away from Bill's when Charlie crawled back up her body, her breath leaving her in one long jagged puff as she caught the look in his eyes. The stories whispered around Gryffindor Tower hadn't done him justice.

His heavy member brushed between her legs, seeking her wet heat with determination as he settled into her arms. Lavender's whole body quaked in anticipation as his throbbing length once again bumped into her swollen nub, deliberately sending her wild.

"Do you like him touching you?" Bill whispered in her ear, "Do you want him to fuck you?"

She could only manage a garbled moan as a delicious heat began to spread from her belly and out to her limbs.

"Just say the words Lav, tell us what you want." The whisper had turned into a rough growl, "Tell him how much you need his cock inside you."

Charlie chose that moment to grip her ankles, bending her legs up and out at an angle that would afford all three an unobstructed view. Lavender was so turned on by this point that it didn't occur to her that she should be embarrassed by the exposure.

"Oh sweet Merlin…" she gasped when he brushed against her again, "_Please_."

Her head fell back when Charlie brushed a little lower, allowing just the tip of his cock to enter her waiting heat. The overwhelming sensation didn't last long, however, and he withdrew and went back to rubbing against her, finding a rhythm that told her he could go on like that for quite a while. She was certain she was going to burst into flames at any given moment.

"_Please, Charlie_," she begged, thrashing her head from side to side in frustration.

Bill was once again back in her ear, his fingers snaking into her hair, holding her still until she was forced to focus on him, "Tell him, be specific."

Lavender stared into his eyes, watched the excitement build in them as she formed the words, "Fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

Charlie needed no more encouragement than that, his body tensing as he stopped his teasing and thrust into her, long and hard. Lavenders toes curled, her fingers biting into Charlie's forearms as he arched his spine, flexed his hips and filled every inch of her.

"So hot, so tight," he gasped, holding still as her body adjusted to his size. He pulled out slowly, making sure she felt every delicious inch before thrusting back into her with equal care.

His pace was slow, leisurely and controlled. She quivered beneath him, her thighs shaking as small gasps escaped her at every pump of his hips.

"More," she moaned, looking down at where their bodies met, the erotic sight causing her to cry out.

Charlie readjusted his grip on her ankles, pressing her limbs almost to the mattress in a test of her flexibility. Not only did he increase the pace of his thrusts but he also changed his angle, as if sensing the spot deep within her that had her seeing stars. With each inward thrust he would brush against it, and each time he withdrew – never quite leaving her body – he would drag back over it again.

She closed her eyes and her head fell back against Bill's thigh. She felt her orgasm begin to build, the heavy sensation beginning and an overwhelming fullness taking over her. It was suddenly hard to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling with great gasps.

Charlie began to increase the speed of his thrusts, never once losing his rhythm or missing that sensitive spot. She felt her inner walls beginning to clench, and all at once she forgot to breathe as her release swept over them, wave after wave of contractions making it nearly impossible for him to remain in control.

Lavender bucked wildly against him, her nails raking down his forearms as she became lost in the most magnificent, toe-curling orgasm she had ever had.

It was several long minutes before her body came back down to Earth, her breath still coming in short gasps. She slowly became aware that Charlie was still imbedded firmly inside her, hard as a rock – her body gave a feeble pulse at the knowledge.

He was kissing her neck, one hand leisurely playing with her nipples, waiting patiently for her to pay attention to him. Lav reached out a hand to brush the hair out of his eyes and he grinned up at her before moving up to capture her lips.

"Can you kneel?" he whispered huskily a few moments later, barely pulling back from her mouth.

Lavender felt as limp as a noodle and wasn't even sure she could keep her eyes open, let alone move her whole body. Charlie took her silence as a yes, however, and slid her arms around his neck. She suddenly found herself upright, his body dislodged from his as he manoeuvred her around to face his brother on her knees, with little to no effort on his part.

Bill grinned up at her, his body relaxed against the pillows, his eyes sweeping over her flushed, naked body with appreciation. She licked her lips and took note of the bulge in his jeans, wondering once again what he would look like without his clothes on.

"It's probably best you hold onto the bed post," he informed her, indicating the carved timber pole behind him with a tip of his head. The look in his eyes told her that it wasn't a suggestion, and she felt a thrill go through her when she obeyed with almost no hesitation.

Charlie used his knee to nudge her legs apart. His palm slid up her waist to cup her breasts and once again she felt the brush of his rigid manhood against her swollen core. The sensations were different this time, her body still trembling from her first orgasm, anticipating what it now knew was coming.

He entered her the same time one hand slid down to play with her tight nub, making her cry out. His chest plastered to his back as he held her to him, her head falling back against his shoulder as he pumped into her pliant body with almost forceful strokes.

Charlie supported her entire weight, dragging her body against his, his fingers never stopping their relentless movement over her. She couldn't stop the pleasured screams from escaping her as he took her with such utter possession.

It wasn't long before she felt his rhythm begin to falter, her own body becoming impossibly tight, the harsh breathing in the room turning to inherent cries. It took her another moment before she realized she was almost sobbing, begging him for the release that seemed so close.

Charlie's fingers dug almost painfully into her breast, the hand that sat at the junction of her thighs stopped their restless movement and for one impossible second there was no sound or movement in the bedroom.

He broke first, his cries loud and ragged, his hips pumping so quickly she would have fallen if she hadn't been gripping onto the bed post so tight. She felt her second orgasm sweep over her, making her whole body quiver with the force of it.

By the time he released her from his arms, her exhausted body slumping over Bill's maddeningly-clothed form, her voice was hoarse and she feared her breathing would never return to normal.

"Sweet Merlin," she gasped, turning languidly onto her back, her arms stretching above her head, "That was…" _Amazing, erotic, mind-blowingly hot_, she thought, "…wow." She ended with a sigh, tipping her head back, her body aching in places she wasn't aware could ache.

She felt movement near her feet and raised her head enough to watch Charlie push himself up to sit at the end of the bed.

He turned around and winked at her, "Hungry?" he asked, already standing, unabashedly naked. Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, reminding her that breakfast had been almost eight hours ago.

She couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips, "Starving," she replied.

Charlie strode from the bedroom and she was suddenly left with Bill. She raised herself on her elbows and twisted her body to look back at him.

He reached out to twist a strand of hair around his fingers, a look of satisfaction on his face, "What?" he asked.

Lavender opened her mouth, wanting to ask a thousand questions but not knowing how. Bill leant forward, his lips brushing over hers so lightly she would have barely called it a kiss at all.

He pulled back enough to whisper in her ear, "I know it doesn't make much sense to you, but I really did enjoy watching. The sight of you in the grips of such passion will be the thing of my fantasies for a very long time."

Lavender shivered with the erotic thought, remembering Bill's commands, his control of the situation and the look in his eyes when those commands had been blindly followed. In a strange way it had all added to the heightened sensuality of the situation.

She turned her head and kissed him quickly, her lips still tingling from Charlie's mouth, "I wouldn't have minded if you had decided to…"

Bill cut her off, "You never know. There is always next time."

Lavenders eyes widened, "Next time?" she squeaked.

The mattress dipped as Bill slid off the bed, holding out his hand to her, a wicked grin transforming his handsome features.

Charlie called out from the other room, "It doesn't look like you two will be going anywhere soon. The snow's set in."

Her eyes whipped to the windows but the dark had set in and couldn't see anything. Bill took her momentary distraction to tug her off the bed, pulling her toward the smell of cooking bacon and the warm open fire.

Charlie looked up from where he stood hanging off the fridge door, a sexy grin spreading when he caught sight of her naked form coming toward him.

"I hope you don't mind, you're going to have to wait out the storm until morning," he said, his eyes sweeping up and down her body with appreciation, the glint she saw there making her body quiver. Bill's promise would definitely be coming sooner rather than later.

_No, indeed_, Lavender thought, stretching her body to give both men an eyeful. _I don't mind at all._

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_Hope you liked it!_


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